Halfway Gone
by AngelsShadow816
Summary: When a mysterious affliction threatens Hatter's sanity, Alice and Hatter return to Wonderland to find answers. Through the Looking Glass, they find a frozen wasteland and a strange little girl who says she's been waiting for them. Alice/Hatter.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **The characters in the following story do not belong to me, nor am I profiting from this story. Alice belongs to Lewis Carroll, Nick Willing, and SyFy. I'm simply borrowing the characters for my own amusement, and I promise to return them.

* * *

**Prologue**

_Love demands the impossible, the absolute, the sky on fire, inexhaustible springtime, life after death, and death itself transfigured into eternal life._

_- Albert Camus_

_

* * *

_

Happy endings belonged to the pages of fairytales; Alice Hamilton understood that now.

At first, deceptively, her reunion with Hatter appeared so very much like the proverbial happily ever after. For her, Hatter had traveled through the Looking Glass, abandoning his world and the life he knew in Wonderland.

Naturally, her mother was more than a little perplexed by her relationship with David, the construction worker. As any loving and concerned mother would, she asked countless questions, and Alice provided feeble lies that even the most naïve of mothers would never believe. Still, Carol Hamilton rather liked David. Therefore, she managed to overlook Alice's contrived explanations for her mysterious and abrupt relationship with David.

_David_; Alice never called him that. She asked him once why he chose that name, and he replied, "Seemed as good as any other Oyster name. Can't go around tellin' people my name's Hatter, now can I?" Thus, he adopted the name David Hatter, and Alice noticed that, even after several months following his arrival in her world, he still cringed slightly when people addressed him as "David."

Of course, Carol commented on Alice's strange insistence of calling her boyfriend by his surname. It seemed, as Carol put it, rather "unorthodox."

Yet, all things considered, Hatter's continued aversion to his Oyster name was the least of his and Alice's concerns.

* * *

Initially, Hatter's front as a construction worker was merely that: a front. However, shortly afterward, he managed to find an actual job in construction. Alice never asked how he accomplished that particular feat, considering the fact that she highly doubted Hatter knew the first thing about construction. Regardless of his methods, Hatter earned a decent wage and, in Alice's opinion, seemed satisfied with his career choice, however unconventional for a man recently removed from Wonderland.

Construction work aside, Alice and Hatter dated for nearly three months before Alice informed her mother that she was going to live with Hatter. Since that declaration did not include, at the very least, the announcement of an engagement, Carol was not necessarily ecstatic by Alice's decision. With her traditional ideals, Carol protested the situation but eventually realized she could not deter her daughter. Still, the arrangement did not lower Hatter in Carol's opinion. Instead, she faulted Alice for being impetuous. Yet the so-called guilt trip with which she inundated Alice was, more or less, superficial. Ultimately, her daughter's happiness meant far more than her conventional principles.

In the end, it _should_ have been the happily ever after of which Alice always dreamed – of which any girl dreams as an idealistic child. But less than a month after she first called Hatter's small but comfortable apartment home, Hatter suffered his first headache, a throbbing migraine which crippled him for nearly a full day.

At first, it appeared a small matter. Headaches, after all, were not uncommon, despite the fact Hatter did not leave their bed for an entire day. However, the second debilitating headache occurred barely two days later. Then, a third one incapacitated him four days after the second headache.

Hatter tried to brush off the entire issue, but Alice insisted he see a doctor. His subsequent visits to the doctor at Alice's behest proved ineffective. The number of headaches increased just as they intensified, but, by all medical tests performed, Hatter was pronounced the very picture of health. His doctors were baffled, incapable of explaining the sudden onset of his violent migraines.

Hatter assured Alice that she shouldn't worry, but Alice was beginning to fear that his prolonged exposure to her world was somehow the cause of his mysterious illness. When she hesitantly voiced that theory, Hatter told her that was impossible. And, obviously, Alice wanted desperately to believe that.

But then the nosebleeds started, and the nightmares soon followed.

* * *

Hatter told her of the recurring nightmare so often that it began to haunt her dreams as well …

_She stood alone, staring out over the vast snow covered field before her. Though impossible to see from her position, she knew the seemingly endless field was neatly divided into massive squares by the intersecting lines of frozen brooks. In one square, the snow covered the earth with a thick blanket of white; in the next, black snow glistened in the waning light of the winter sun._

_She shivered. Her limbs were stiff, and her fingers were turning blue._

_The cold was consuming her – claiming her and killing her. _

_The cold devoured the very world itself._

_The cold had taken him; it had taken everything._

_Time was running out. She had to move, but she could not. Horrified, she looked down. The snow had climbed nearly halfway up her legs, fusing her body with the frozen earth._

_She panicked, struggling as the snow climbed higher._

Alice gasped, and her eyes opened. Her heart pounded, and it took a moment for her to realize she'd been dreaming.

As her breathing stilled, she realized Hatter was not beside her. She suspected he'd never even tried to sleep that night. When the headaches did not plague him, confining him to bed, then he often suffered from insomnia.

Alice threw back the covers and rose. When she opened the bedroom door and stepped into the short hallway, she noticed the light. She walked into the dining room, a tiny area that suited its purpose but was just barely large enough to accommodate a table and four chairs. In one of the chairs, Hatter sat while Alice's old chessboard occupied the table before him. Bloody tissues littered the remainder of the table, indicating yet another nosebleed.

He rolled a white pawn between his fingers, and he did not acknowledge Alice's approach. He frowned, intently studying the chessboard.

"Hatter," Alice whispered as she gently placed one hand on his shoulder.

Though he had appeared lost in a trance over the chessboard, he was not startled by the sudden contact. Instead, he blinked several times as if awaking from a dream … or nightmare. "Alice?" he asked. "Sorry, couldn't sleep."

"So you decided to play chess … alone?"

"Yeah, it's … well, it's, um, good for the mind, you know. Plus it's boring," he added. "Figured maybe it'd put me to sleep … which, obviously, it didn't."

"I see that."

"But don't let me keep you up," Hatter said as he placed the pawn back on the chessboard. "I'm fine, really – just a bit of trouble sleepin' is all."

"It is three o'clock in the morning," Alice returned. "You're staring at a chessboard. You had _another_ nosebleed." She paused. "Hatter, you are _not_ fine."

Hatter avoided her gaze. "Your doctors all say I'm fine."

"The doctors don't know you're from Wonderland," Alice replied.

"Look, Alice," Hatter said with a sigh, "it's just a bit of an adjustment is all – nothin' to worry about. Here, I'll go to bed if that's what's got you worried," he added as he pushed the chair back from the table. The chair's legs scraped loudly along the hardwood floor.

It wasn't the insomnia alone that concerned Alice. It was the headaches and the nosebleeds, the nightmares and the solitary games of chess where Hatter never actually _moved_ any of the pieces, except the white pawn. He simply studied the board as if waiting for some kind of profound revelation.

Alice shook her head, forcing aside the troubling thoughts. Maybe it _was_ just an adjustment for him as he adapted to her world. She tried to convince herself of that fact, but it was becoming more difficult to continue the charade of normalcy with each passing day.

Then, finally, the charade became impossible.

Nearly a month after that incident in the dining room, Alice returned home after joining her mother for lunch. She found Hatter in the bedroom.

When she entered the room, her jaw dropped. Large sections of the white walls were covered with writing. In fact, Hatter was _still_ writing, apparently oblivious to Alice's arrival. As he wrote, he recited: "The Lion and the Unicorn were fightin' for the crown: The Lion beat the Unicorn all round the town. Some gave them white bread, some gave them brown: Some gave them plum-cake and drummed them out of town (1)."

"Hatter," Alice whispered, horrified.

He glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, Alice," he greeted. "Fancy seein' you here."

"I live here," Alice reminded him, fearing that he did not even know where he was.

"Right," he replied, seeming to simply brush right over her comment without the slightest comprehension. "Well, I had some stuff on my mind – had to write it down." He paused as he looked over what he'd just finished writing. "Strange song, that," he said. "Haven't the slightest idea what it means, but I keep hearin' it in my head." He shook his head, looking momentarily perplexed. Then he continued, "They're callin' me 'Mad' Hatter. Did you know that?"

"Who're '_they_,' Hatter?" Alice was trying desperately not to panic. It wouldn't do either one of them any bit of good if she panicked. After all, _someone_ needed to think clearly.

Hatter shrugged. "Don't know, actually. I keep hearin' it is all." As he turned away from her again, prepared to continue decorating the wall with riddles and rhymes, Alice reached out and grasped his arm. The physical contact jarred him, and he blinked several times before looking back at her. "Alice," he greeted as if he hadn't just been talking to her. "You're back early. Lunch with your mum go all right?" He frowned. "What's wrong? You look a bit pale."

"Don't you remember what you were just doing – what you were just saying?" Alice asked as she waved a hand toward the walls, which Hatter had used as paper.

"What the …?" Then, realization seemed to dawn on him. "Oh," he said. "That was … um, that was me, wasn't it?" Hatter cleared his throat. "Well, I'll just have to paint over that then." He offered a valiant front, acting perfectly nonchalant about the entire situation. But the façade crumbled quickly. Hatter sighed, shaking his head. "I'm not all right, Alice," he said quietly.

Alice swallowed hard. "I know."

"No one here can help me."

"I know," Alice whispered.

"I've got to go back to Wonderland." Hatter hesitated. "I don't expect you to come with me. I know you've had enough of Wonderland for a lifetime. Don't blame you for that one. If I were you, I'd be done with the place myself."

"I'm going with you."

"You don't have to explain, Alice. I understand. It's – wait a second. You said you're going?"

Alice raised an eyebrow as she folded her arms across her chest. "Of course I'm going, Hatter."

"Well, what about your mum? She'll worry."

"Last time, I was only gone an hour," Alice replied. "I doubt she'll even realize I'm gone."

Hatter appeared to consider that for a moment. "All right, true, but … you know I've got a bad feelin' about this. It's not just me, Alice. Somethin' isn't right about Wonderland."

Alice suspected that Hatter was correct in his assumption. Unfortunately, there was only one method available to prove Hatter's theory just as there was only one way to understand and, hopefully, cure Hatter's mysterious affliction.

The answers were through the Looking Glass.

* * *

(1) - The Lion and the Unicorn is a nursery rhyme played upon by Lewis Carroll, who incorporated the Lion and the Unicorn as characters in _Through the Looking Glass_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **The italicized section is meant to be confusing. There is a method (I think) to my writing, and, I hope, through this snippet and others to come to offer you insight into a character that is **very** loosely based upon a character in _Through the Looking Glass _(the name is really the only connection). Of course, the snippets are intended to eventually add up to something relevant :-D

Thank you for reading, and enjoy!

* * *

**1**

_We are all born for love … it is the principle of existence and its only end._

- Benjamin Disraeli

* * *

_Rumors always persisted that the first warden of the prison hanged himself, an act which apparently warranted memorializing Audley Aberdeen's inglorious demise by renaming the prison 'Aberdeen's Gate.' However the prison earned its namesake, it was, ultimately, irrelevant. What mattered was that Aberdeen's Gate was my home._

_My mother gave birth to me within the walls of the Queen of Hearts' most infamous prison and then died shortly thereafter. For lack of creativity, they named me Red for my father, who was called Martigan Red. At the time of my birth, he was not dead, but, to my knowledge, he never saw me, and I never saw him. He, like the other unfortunate prisoners of Aberdeen's Gate, was used for experiments. Experiments ended in one of two manners: death or insanity. Though no one ever told me his fate, I preferred to believe that Martigan Red died, for insanity meant the Great Vault, and the Great Vault was both the nightmare and the hell of Aberdeen's Gate._

_I knew little of the Great Vault except that it was a place of unspeakable horror where the deranged were tested upon without regard to even the barest semblance of morals. I did not necessarily fear the Great Vault; I merely avoided it and often tried to pretend it simply didn't exist. Unlike my mother and father, I was not exactly a prisoner. I had neither fought on the side of the Resistance, as they had, nor had I committed some fault or crime against the Queen of Hearts. I had, in fact, only the misfortune of being born to inmates. As such, I possessed a larger cage, though it was a cage all the same. My leash did not extend beyond Aberdeen's Gate, but I was not confined to a single cell. However, I was experimented upon; that much was true. But the children of prisoners were subjected to relatively harmless tests – tests that were so much a part of my life that I did not question them. Indeed, it all seemed a natural part of being because it was the only life I knew. My entire world existed within the walls of Aberdeen's Gate. _

_Yet despite the prison's infamy, Aberdeen's Gate was only one piece of the Queen of Hearts' seemingly infinite cruelty – a piece about which the people of Wonderland were remarkably ignorant. No one understood the prison's true nature. No one understood the queen's purpose and any inkling of understanding died in the fire that consumed the prison. After the fire, Aberdeen's Gate was forgotten, as were those people imprisoned there … as were those people who perished there._

_But I did not forget; I never would. I would never forget losing the man I loved, and I would never forget losing the infant son I'd never been allowed to hold._

* * *

As Alice rummaged through the closet for whatever it was she felt she needed for their return to Wonderland, Hatter studied the strange riddles and rhymes – _his_ riddles and rhymes. He recognized the script. He had definitely written all that rubbish. The problem was he didn't actually recall writing it.

"Why's a raven like a writin' desk? (1)" Hatter read the bizarre question aloud. It was a riddle that appeared on the wall several times. "What's that even supposed to mean?" He looked over his shoulder. Alice was crouched in front of the closet, tossing random items aside as she searched through the mess that was the bottom of their bedroom closet, a mess that was courtesy of Hatter. He kept all that was visible within the apartment neat enough, but when it came to closets and drawers, he collected enough junk to be the envy of the most seasoned of pack rats, a term Alice used to describe him on more than one occasion. Though Alice complained of his penchant for collecting what she called "garbage," she humored him because she understood he simply found so many things about her world rather amusing.

Alice paused in her work, looking more than a bit frustrated. "Do you _really_ need all these hats?"

Hatter shrugged; it often bothered him that he'd had to part with his own hat – a hat that's design wasn't exactly fit for everyday wear in Alice's world. Over the course of his time here, he'd managed to – rather reluctantly – accept what Alice called a "baseball" hat because that was what many of the employees wore to the construction site before donning their hardhats. And, ultimately, it was Hatter's goal to blend into the Oyster world as much as possible for Alice's sake, though she'd never actually asked him to act or dress in any particular way. At this point, he still thought baseball hats looked funny, and he'd managed to acquire quite a few in the hopes of finding one he genuinely liked … along with countless other hats that went by bizarre names like homburg, fedora, trilby, beret, gatsby, cowboy, boater, bucket, and panama.

"You can't answer a question with a question," Hatter pointed out as he avoided defending his acquisition of so many hats, which was a conversation they'd already had several times before anyway.

"I don't know what it means," Alice replied before she returned her attention back to the closet. After a moment, she announced, "Here it is." As she stood, Hatter noticed she was holding _his_ hat. Alice brushed off the bit of accumulated dust before turning toward him and closing the small distance between them. When she stood close to him, she reached up and placed the hat upon his head. "If we're going back to Wonderland I think you need this."

Of course, the hat certainly wasn't going to do either one of them a damn bit of good, but the thought touched him nonetheless. "Thanks, Alice," he said as he somehow felt a bit more like himself despite everything that was clearly not right with him.

Alice offered a fleeting smile, leaving Hatter to realize how very much he missed her smile. Over the past few months, Alice's smile had become a rare occurrence, though, obviously, Hatter understood why that was the case. He didn't smile much either because, honestly, neither one of them really had a great deal to smile about these days.

"Well," Alice began, "I'm going to change." She glanced down at the simple dress she'd worn to meet her mother for lunch. It was reminiscent of the dress she'd worn when she and Hatter first met. "I'm not up for running around Wonderland in a dress and heels again."

"Right," Hatter said as Alice, regrettably, stepped away from him. Smiles aside, intimacy had been another aspect of their relationship sorely lacking over the past couple of months. Naturally, it was due to his condition or illness or whatever _it_ was. The increasingly frequent and crippling headaches left little opportunity for … well, for other things.

Not to mention the fact that he was going out of his bloody mind. _That_ certainly didn't help.

Hatter watched as Alice grabbed a long-sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes before heading across the hall for the bathroom and leaving him alone in the bedroom. When the bathroom door closed, Hatter turned back to the writing that plastered the walls. He continued studying the riddles, wishing that he could make sense of it … wishing that he could at least _remember_ writing it, considering it had happened only a few minutes earlier.

Besides the peculiar question about the raven and the writing desk, the numbers 10/6 (2) appeared more than a few times. That, however, at least meant something to Hatter, despite his inability to recall writing the numbers. By the way people in Alice's world used a calendar, ten signified the month and six signified the day, and October sixth was the day he'd ventured through the Looking Glass, leaving his world and everything he knew behind.

Today was the thirteenth of October. So, he'd left Wonderland over a year ago … well, at least over a year ago in Oyster time, which he knew didn't necessarily match the flow of time in Wonderland.

Then, there was the sixteenth of October (3). That was the day he'd found Alice.

"_I missed you."_

Professing that had been tantamount to admitting he loved her … if, of course, his decision to follow her hadn't stated that fact plainly enough. Simply put, Hatter did not miss people. Due, in part, to the lifestyle he'd lived in Wonderland before Alice's arrival, Hatter never allowed attachment – the sort of attachment that led to _missing_. That kind of sentiment never amounted to anything good, at least in Hatter's experience … at least in his experience _before_ meeting Alice.

That aside, Hatter realized that the sixteenth signified his and Alice's first day together, or, he supposed, the day they began "dating," as Oysters called it. And Hatter had come to learn that Oysters viewed anniversaries as important events, especially women Oysters. Since learning the significance of that particular date several months earlier, Hatter had considered – quite frequently, actually – what exactly he should do to celebrate that day, which was different from every other day because it meant something to _them_. He'd debated just asking Alice, but decided against it and instead relied on the advice of the Oysters he worked with and the Oysters who were friends of Alice's and thus, by default, friends of his. He'd even asked Alice's mother. Naturally, Carol thought it was more than a bit odd that Hatter would question her about what he ought to do for his and Alice's anniversary more than six months prior to the date. Still, she overlooked it as she overlooked so many of his quirks and had told him that it was impossible to buy for Alice and that he could save himself the headache by simply purchasing a card and flowers.

Well, Hatter didn't much care for that suggestion, though he thanked Carol all the same. At best, Carol's advice seemed … impersonal. First off, he didn't understand the concept of cards, which, inevitably, ended up in the trash. And flowers … well, flowers died … and then ended up in the trash right alongside the cards.

Then, Hatter had considered simply taking Alice to dinner, which was another popular suggestion. But that just hadn't seemed right somehow.

So, there was jewelry. Thus, one day, he'd spent a few hours at a jewelry store. Hatter had no doubt that the saleswoman thought he was bloody daft, and she'd been visibly annoyed when he failed to purchase anything after wasting so much of her time. Still, he just didn't imagine that Alice would fancy any of the trinkets he'd seen.

Yet despite his initial uncertainty about the entire decidedly foreign event – among all the other issues plaguing him – Hatter had finally concluded that there was only one gift he could possibly give Alice.

As Hatter forced himself to abandon any hope of understanding the riddles and rhymes decorating the walls of his and Alice's bedroom, he opened the top drawer of his dresser and sifted through the contents until he found the particular item for which he was searching.

The item was, in fact, a piece of jewelry – a necklace, actually. But, unlike the pieces at the jewelry store, this necklace meant something. However, Hatter didn't know _what_ it meant, exactly. All he knew was that he'd owned the vibrant, teardrop shaped ruby pendant with its plain black ribbon necklace since before he could remember. No one, his mum included, ever explained the ruby's origin or its significance, but, somehow, Hatter suspected it was important. Obviously, he couldn't explain that suspicion, and he didn't try to explain it. Instead, he only endeavored to keep the ruby nearby, which was why, when he'd abandoned so many other material possessions, he refused to leave the ruby in Wonderland.

He ran his thumb along the face of the ruby, knowing he wanted Alice to have it. But when he heard the bathroom door open, Hatter slipped the ruby into his pocket and turned just as Alice appeared in the doorway to the bedroom.

"We should go," she said.

"Yes," Hatter returned. "No use waitin', right?"

Alice shook her head. "No," she agreed.

Hatter hesitated. "You don't have to go, Alice."

"I know I don't," Alice replied. "But I am. We're going to figure this out, Hatter. _Together_," she added.

The way she emphasized that single word was, Hatter knew, the same as Alice admitting she loved him.

Strange then, Hatter realized, that neither he nor Alice had ever actually said the words.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Why is a raven like a writing desk? – The Mad Hatter asks Alice this notable riddle at the tea party. Alice gives up, and the Mad Hatter admits he doesn't know the answer either. Originally, Lewis Carroll never intended for the riddle to have an answer.

(2) – 10/6 are the numbers on the card traditionally seen on the Mad Hatter's hat. 10/6 means ten schillings and six pence, the price of the hat in pre-decimalized British money and acts as a visual indication of the hatter's trade. Obviously, I've taken the liberty of changing the meaning.

(3) – I have no idea how many days passed between Alice falling back through the Looking Glass and her reunion with Hatter. So, I chose the sixteenth based on adding 10/6 together.

I also want to thank everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. I truly appreciate the kind words, and I take each review as the highest of compliments. Thank you!

And I apologize if it seems a bit odd that neither Hatter nor Alice have actually said, "I love you." It's simply my interpretation for this story. Neither one of them strikes me as the kind of people who readily admit love and, rather, prefer to let actions speak louder than words.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Once again, confusion, I'm sure, but as this is only the third chapter, I hope you'll forgive me as I develop the plot :-D Enjoy, and thank you so very much for reading!

* * *

**2**

"_Love is not grown in a garden, nor sold in the marketplace; whether you are a king or a servant, the price is your head and nothing less. Yes, the cost of the elixir of love is your head! Do you hesitate? 0 miser, It is cheap at that price!"_

- Abu Hamid al-Ghazali

* * *

_My fingers trailed along the cold stone wall as I descended the spiral staircase that led deep into the bowels of Aberdeen's Gate. It was a familiar corridor, one that I had followed daily since before I could remember. Yet despite its strangely comforting familiarity, the pervasive damp never failed to chill me and the stale rank of mold never failed to nauseate me._

_I took shallow breaths through my mouth, though the air itself left behind a foul taste. In a weak and, ultimately, futile attempt to ward off the cold, I imagined the warmth of the summer sun upon my skin and planned to return to the Courtyard following my treatment. The Courtyard was a pleasant little corner of nature, lush and green and fragrant, smelling sweetly of flowers and sunshine, if such a combined scent were possible. It was the closest I had ever come to seeing the world beyond Aberdeen's Gate, and I adored it. In fact, I pitied the people who were prisoners of Aberdeen's Gate in the truest sense of the word, those who were not even allowed to appreciate the beauty of the Courtyard._

_Still thinking about the Courtyard, I neared the chamber that was as familiar a companion to me as the dank corridor itself. I noticed that the door was ajar, but I knew better than to enter until I was greeted. Therefore, I raised my hand, intending to pull the lever beside the door, which would indicate my arrival to those inside the chamber. Yet I paused with my hand around the lever when I heard two men clearly arguing._

_I realized, of course, that eavesdropping was dangerous business within the prison. If anyone suspected that I might have overheard something of import … well, needless to say, my leash would shorten considerably, and they would likely prohibit my visits to the Courtyard. Despite understanding that very probable consequence, I could not bring myself to pull that lever, thus stopping the heated conversation by announcing my presence._

"_Your first patient is due any time now. So, you'd best get over your attack of morals, _Doctor_." The first man snorted, and I imagined he was shaking his head in frustration. "You don't attend the Academy and _still_ have morals."_

_I thought about that for a moment. The Academy … I recognized that name. It was the shortened name used to refer to the Wonderland Science Academy. Once, I heard someone mention that the Academy was the only school of any significance beneath the Queen of Hearts' regime._

"_If I suspected what my enrollment meant, I would've declined the offer," the second man returned. He sounded surprisingly young. Those who acquired the title of doctor within the prison were generally well past the prime of youth._

"_You don't decline an offer to attend the Academy anymore than you decline an assignment here," the first man snapped._

"_I would have," the second man returned._

"_And it would've been off with your head," the first man said, repeating a phrase for which the Queen of Hearts was infamous. Even from within the confines of Aberdeen's Gate, I knew that._

"_Better that than this. You'll bring me rats, only they aren't rats. They're _people_."_

"_People mean nothing to the Queen," the first man replied. "You'd best remember that."_

_As it seemed the argument had ended, I quickly pulled the lever, fearful that one of them might discover me and realize that I had heard the entire conversation. Still, the words the two men exchanged troubled me._

_People mean nothing to the Queen … _

* * *

_**Wonderland**_

Rain consumed the land – a never-ending plague that was, in itself, a mysterious riddle without answer.

Lily (1) Heart called it the Sadness.

Perhaps it should have pleased her that, shortly after the rain began, no one seemed to worry over where she went or what she did. No longer was she reprimanded for unbecoming behavior. It was, in fact, the sort of freedom unheard of for a princess, especially a princess as young as she at only just barely ten years old. And, admittedly, at first, Lily rather enjoyed the newfound liberty to do as she pleased without thought or consequence. However, Lily soon realized what such freedom truly meant.

Her mother, the Queen whom some still called "the Duchess," (2) did not even look at her as she wandered the corridors of the palace, dressed in a gown and cloak of white that only seemed to emphasize her skin's ghostly pallor. And her eyes … the clear blue darkened with each day that passed until there was nothing left but pools of obsidian, seemingly endless, sightless, and lifeless – the very embodiment of Sadness. As for her father … well, at first, it seemed that he fought the Sadness. He was, after all, the King of Hearts and the King of Wonderland. And he was her father. As such, Lily reasoned, he was the strongest of any man in the whole of Wonderland. Yet on the day that the rain turned to snow, Lily realized she had lost her father as well.

Lily awoke that morning, shivering beneath the blankets that had never failed to warm her. Immediately, she sat up in her bed and surveyed her room. Nothing appeared out of place, but she could not deny the cold.

The pale light of the overcast sky filtered in through the windows, and, temporarily mesmerized, Lily watched the snow, a strange substance foreign to any place but the highest of mountains in Wonderland. It could have been beautiful, but the very sight of the seemingly harmless white flakes that coated the earth in a crystalline blanket of white terrified Lily.

It was the Sadness, she knew.

Flinging aside her blankets, Lily jumped out of bed and rushed to change, hating that her wardrobe consisted of dresses alone – the only wardrobe befitting a Princess of Hearts … a Princess of Wonderland. She rummaged around for a coat at least, but all she found was the thin black duster her mother insisted she use for horse riding. As if black did not show dust! Of course, she wasn't permitted more than a sedate _trot_ on her horse, which, admittedly, didn't create near as much dust as a full gallop. Still, Lily rolled her eyes at her mother's color choice before she recalled that she would give anything to be subject once more to her mother's over protectiveness and lectures on appropriate fashion.

Then, Lily paused after she slipped one arm inside the duster. _Black_. In her haste to dress and singular concern to find her father, Lily did not consider one very obvious fact: the last time she wore the duster it had been the rich color of scarlet.

Lily frowned, running her fingertips along the black material. It seemed real enough, and there was still a tear at the elbow of the one sleeve. Then, scanning her rather large wardrobe, Lily realized with a start that all the color had vanished – only black and white remained. Turning, Lily glanced around the rest of the enormous bedchamber. Every last little bit of color was gone, leaving white accented by black and black accented by white.

Quickly, Lily pulled on the other sleeve of the duster and fastened the longer coat before yanking on the boots she used for riding. The boots, by far, were the only practical shoes she owned.

Rushing out of her bedroom and into the corridor, Lily skidded to a halt before the one woman she did _not_ want to see.

Her name was Red. She was a doctor held in the highest of esteems though Lily often thought the icy woman was more a witch than a physician. When Lily's mother fell mysteriously and near fatally ill two years earlier, Red earned the respect and the regard of the kingdom by saving the queen's life. Naturally, for that, Lily was grateful. Yet, with a child's logic, she was suspicious all the same, trusting that there was something dark about this woman that no one else could see.

As always, despite her name, Red wore black. Her skin was the palest of porcelain and her eyes a shocking, vivid blue. She kept the heavy length of her dark hair tied back. Lily imagined she might have been beautiful if there were any hint of warmth or kindness, but there was not. Red was as bitterly cold as a pool of frozen water. Yet by virtue of saving the queen's life, the whole of the palace, Lily's mother and father included, overlooked Red's frigid demeanor.

"I'm going to see my daddy," Lily announced as she felt the need to say _something_ when that awful woman continued to simply look at her as if she were of no more significance than a beetle.

Without warning, Red grasped Lily's chin with her fingers, forcing her to look upward. Red's nails bit her flesh and Lily winced. "Your eyes are blue."

_Of course_ her eyes were blue. They'd always been blue. Was the woman mad? Lily wrenched her head away from Red and stumbled back.

"You are a child," Red murmured. "That must be why." She paused, studying Lily for a moment longer. "It will take you eventually. I envy your innocence, but it can, I imagine, only save you for so long."

Lily swallowed, watching Red warily as a genuine prickle of fear raised the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck. "I'm going to see my daddy," she whispered.

Red shrugged. "Go," she said. "See him then. But he will not see you."

Lily raced through the palace corridors, her heart pounding wildly. She ran to the library; her father liked the library, and, somehow, Lily suspected she would find him there. Lily knew that, at one time, books and the infinite wisdom they contained had been outlawed by the Queen of Hearts. That alone was only one of many reasons why Lily was thankful she had never known her grandmother. Lily adored books, and her father often read to her … at least, before the rain. Yet even after the start of the never-ending rain, her father still wandered the library, though he only listlessly perused the books, continuously searching, it seemed, for one that would once again spark his interest.

When Lily entered the library through the massive double doors that were, as always, thrown wide opened, she saw him immediately. He stood with his back turned toward her, while facing one of the many bookshelves with his hands clasped behind his back. Strangely, his suit was pure white.

She opened her mouth, but before Lily could utter even the barest of gasps, a hand clamped firmly over her mouth and a man's arm circled about her waist. She kicked and struggled as she tried to scream, but her efforts were useless. Against her will, the man hauled Lily back down the corridor and into a small, dimly lit chamber. The man kicked the door closed behind them, and Lily managed to bite his hand.

The man cursed, releasing her. Lily spun around to confront her attacker and stopped short. "Gryphon? (3)" she asked.

"Damn it to hell, girl," Gryphon snapped. "You broke skin, you know."

Gryphon was Red's assistant, but, unlike Red, he was not cold. However, as only a child could possibly judge, Lily saw something dark inside of Gryphon as well. He simply hid it, and, despite her better sense, Lily liked Gryphon.

"You deserve it," Lily returned. Though, admittedly, she _was_ sorry she'd hurt him. But, well, she hadn't known it was him, after all! "Why'd you grab me?" she demanded.

"Because you don't want to see your da," Gryphon answered. "Jack Heart's not home and it's not something his little girl needs to see."

Lily folded her arms across her chest and raised her chin, trying to assume her most royally condescending pose. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Gryphon began as he tapped his temple with one finger, "that he isn't home, up here."

"The Sadness," Lily breathed as horror and panic gripped her chest painfully and tears blurred her vision. She blinked them away. Crying didn't solve problems, and it wouldn't fix her father.

"You call it whatever you want, but he couldn't fight it forever."

Lily studied Gryphon silently for a moment. "Why are _you_ 'home'?" she asked.

"It can't hurt someone who's already dead inside," Gryphon replied. "I've seen too much. This here … Well, this is nothing."

Lily frowned, thinking. "Then why am _I_ 'home'? Red said something about …" Lily's voice trailed off as she tried to think of the word Red had used. "Innocence," she finally recalled.

"Seems about right," Gryphon said. "Innocence and death," he mused, almost to himself, "the two things that can save you … for a little while at least, but maybe not forever, I imagine."

Of course, Lily had no clue what Gryphon was on about, and she doubted he even knew. A lot of the time, Gryphon talked without the purpose of making sense. At least, that's how Lily saw it.

"Here now," Gryphon said. "I didn't bring you here to talk. Well, I did, but I brought you here for something else." He paused. Then, with a sigh, he said, "I love her, you know. That was my biggest mistake." He shook his head. "Love has a way of stealing common sense, and I can't fix it, not now. It's too late." Then, he knelt before Lily and grasped her shoulders, meeting her gaze. "But maybe _you_ can fix it. Call it what you will, but _it_ hasn't hurt you yet."

Lily stared at him. "I'm just a girl," she whispered, suddenly feeling so very lost and so very alone. What could _she_ possibly do?

"Alice was only a child too – the one of Legend, anyway," Gryphon said.

"I'm not Alice," Lily replied.

Gryphon pressed his lips together, clearly frustrated. "If you don't try then she's won. It's over. She has everything she wants. It isn't about ruling the kingdom. She's only ever wanted them to know her pain – her sorrow. She lost her love. But, more than that, she lost her son, and she wants them to know that sadness."

"Why don't _you_ just stop her?" Why ask a child to do what he should easily be able to do himself?

"I can't."

And Lily knew. Despite her youth, she knew. He loved her; he _truly _loved her. It was appalling, and it was, for him, a disease for which there was no cure. He could not hurt her, and he could not deny Red her greatest wish.

"I thought I liked you," Lily said.

"I know," Gryphon replied. "Maybe you will again someday." Then, Gryphon handed her a small vial. Quizzically, Lily studied the clear liquid inside. "One drop for a dream," Gryphon explained. "Use the dreams wisely. It was one of _his_ most dangerous inventions – one of many reasons why he started the fire."

"Why do I need dreams?"

"Because if you read the cards right, every dream is a prophecy. Most people just don't know it. Drink the dreams, read the cards, and maybe you'll find the answers." Gryphon paused. "It's all I know."

After that, Gryphon departed, leaving Lily alone, more alone, in fact, than she'd ever been.

Everyone was gone, and all she had was a bottle of dreams.

Lily's fingers tightened around the bottle. She drew in a deep breath and, bracing herself, she pulled out the stopper, which was attached to a dropper.

_One drop_, she reminded herself.

She replaced the stopper and tucked the bottle into the pocket of her duster. Then, she waited. When, after a few minutes, nothing miraculous occurred, she realized Gryphon really was mad in every sense of the word. Obviously, he'd given her a vial that held nothing more than water.

Irritated, Lily took one step toward the door before she collapsed.

* * *

Elsewhere in Wonderland, the Man pulled a tattered blanket over his shoulders. The cold chilled his very bones, but, rather than retreat, he held his ground, waiting for the dreadful news he was certain he would soon hear.

Shivering, he surveyed the vast field that sprawled before him, seeming to stretch to the very ends of the world. White snow and, curiously, black snow covered the field, which consisted of black and white squares that represented the board in a game of chess. Therefore, despite the snow, the chessboard remained precise and intact – the chessboard which was more a maze of wits than a game of intellect, and it was the only path to him and the only path away from him. The path was a riddle that only a select few others, besides him, could solve. One of the few who could answer the riddle was completely unaware of his ability.

The Man suspected that blissful ignorance was about to change.

After what seemed an interminable amount of time, the Man finally saw Haigha (4), one of the few capable of solving the riddle who _knew_, in fact, that he was capable of solving the riddle. Haigha was the unfortunate result of an experiment gone horribly awry. He was neither human nor animal, but a grotesque mix between man and bull … similar to what Oysters might have called "the Minotaur." Haigha's body was that of a man's, but his head was that of a horned, ferocious bull, resulting in Haigha's inability to live amongst the world beyond the sanctuary of the chessboard. To accommodate his occasional forays beyond the maze, Haigha wore a large cloak and hood made of heavy material in order to blend amongst the people of Wonderland as best he could.

"The world is frozen," Haigha announced without preamble in a voice that was both unnaturally deep and gravely.

The Man nodded, having already suspected as much. "She escaped the Great Vault then," the Man said, pride warring with horror at what she now planned. "And she has taken her revenge at last. I always feared this would happen."

_"They will all know our suffering. They will know the grief of losing a child. I swear it."_

The Man cringed as Red's words, spoken so long ago it seemed, echoed like a curse through his mind. He would cross the chessboard if he could, but he feared abandoning his sanctuary. Here, his knowledge was safe, seemingly buried at the end of the world and beyond the chessboard labyrinth that few could ever even hope to survive. More than once, he considered suicide as the final end to his knowledge. However, such a cowardly recourse would do little to save Wonderland now.

"She was a far better student than I ever imagined possible," the Man murmured. "I told her once without shame that I was a genius. She's clearly proven the strength of her own intellect, though she borrowed _my_ knowledge to prove that point."

"You've certainly the arrogance of a genius," Haigha muttered.

"Yes," the Man replied, "among countless other faults, I'm sure." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought. After a moment, he asked, "What did Gretna say when you last spoke to her?"

"You're memory must be faulty," Haigha pointed out. "I've told you a hundred times, at least."

"Well, tell me one more time."

"She said the vile brat was dead, drowned in the river. And she was glad for it – glad to be rid of the whole sordid mess. She only ever did what she did for her husband and his promise to you."

The Man's jaw clenched. "I don't believe it," he said. "I've never believed it." Though, of course, the Man _should_ have believed it. Haigha was an excellent tracker, and it seemed he had searched the whole of Wonderland without success.

"There's always been an easy answer," Haigha said.

_Yes_, the Man thought, _there has been_. Though it was an option the Man was hesitant to try. After all, did the Child really need to know? The Man had always envisioned a reunion, even if he never could rejoin the world and even if the Man only ever saw the Child once. The Man had done it out of arrogance and selfishness … and a need for there to be a path to the truth. Not only did the Man believe in the truth – in knowledge – but he believed that everyone had a right to know _who_ they were.

The Child did not know who he was because he had been raised with lies. That is, if the Child was still alive.

"I created the chip and placed it there myself, meant to be activated by remote device. An infant's brain, after all, could not have processed such images. The chip responded by complete assimilation into the brain – virtually undetectable, you know. Ingenious really," the Man added.

"_You_ could go to her," Haigha suggested after a long stretch of silence.

"No," the Man whispered as he shook his head. "Her greatest grief was losing her son. It is because of him that she will kill Wonderland."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Lily: the name given for the White Queen's daughter.

(2) – The Duchess: The miniseries took the liberty of making the hideous Duchess of Carroll's books into a beauty; I've taken the liberty of also making her the "White Queen."

(3) – Gryphon: The Gryphon is a character in _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_; he has, of course, been completely re-imagined in this story and bears no resemblance to his original character.

(4) – Haigha: This is the name given to the March Hare in _Through the Looking Glass_, though Alice does not recognize him as the March Hare. However, Haigha in this story is obviously not meant to be either the March Hare or Mad March. And yes, the reference to the Minotaur is a deliberate reference to the Greek myth, and the reason for that will hopefully become clear later in the story.

I hope this covers everything. I apologize for the lack of Alice and Hatter in this chapter, but it was a necessary evil.

Again, I want to offer a huge **THANK YOU** to everyone who has reviewed. Each one means so very much to me, and I cannot express enough how very much I appreciate it :-D


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** As always, enjoy, and thank you for reading! Happy New Year!

* * *

**3**

_Whoever loved, that loved not at first sight?_

- Christopher Marlowe

* * *

_The day I overheard the argument was the day I met _him_._

_After I pulled the lever outside that ever so familiar chamber, I waited. It was not long before the door opened to reveal an older man with a tall skeletal frame, graying hair, and hawkish nose from which a pair of spectacles perched. His cold eyes assessed me as if I were some foul beast that both intrigued him and revolted him. I shifted beneath the unnerving weight of his scrutiny as I waited for him to step aside and permit my entrance into the chamber. _

_If I had ever seen this particular doctor before, I could not recall. Aberdeen's Gate was the home of countless doctors – or scientists – that it became rather overwhelmingly difficult to distinguish one from the other, especially as none of them had names. They were all addressed only as "Doctor." And as I had never held a genuine conversation with any of them, the only feature of real importance in my observation was the customary white lab coat that the doctors of Aberdeen's Gate wore without fail. That pristine white coat was both a brand of station and power within the prison, as a king might wear a crown._

_Without warning then, the skeleton's fingers grasped my chin in a cruel grip as he forced my head first one way and then the other. "Pretty thing," he muttered as he glared down the pointed beak of his nose. Both his touch and his gaze chilled me, though I could not explain why. "I don't think I've seen you before."_

_I winced as the pressure of his fingers increased. Thankfully, he released me then and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter the room. I slipped past him but felt his lecherous gaze linger before he left, closing the door firmly behind him. Strangely, my hands trembled, and my palms felt clammy from the encounter. And though the skeleton had departed, I hesitated still, feeling uncharacteristically uncomfortable as if I could not guess what I might find within this room I knew so well._

_Finally, I drew in a reassuring breath and forced my legs to move. Cautiously, I walked toward the back of the room, passing shelves and tables of mysterious things for which I had no name. The doctors knew, of course, and I knew it was not my business to know the names of the foreign objects. At last, I reached the white screen behind which there was a black chair – my chair, as I'd come to view it over the years and innumerable visits. Yet when I rounded the screen, _he _was sitting in my chair rather than the stool upon which the doctors typically perched. He did not acknowledge my presence as he flipped through a clipboard of papers. Without really thinking, I announced, "That is my chair. You're supposed to sit on the stool." Routine, after all, was important … or so I'd always been told._

_He glanced up from his papers, raising one eyebrow as he looked at me. He was very young, as I had assumed from hearing his voice during the argument he'd had with the skeletal man. His dark hair was rumpled, flipped oddly upward at the ends and at his bangs especially, yet the effect was strangely endearing. The vague shadow of a beard and mustache was all that kept him from looking even younger than he actually was. _

_When he did not initially reply, I said, "You're very young to be a doctor. You must be very smart."_

"_A genius, actually," he replied, clearly without modesty. He glanced again at the clipboard he held in his hand. "Red, Resistance, aged ten and eight today by prison records," he said. _

"_I was born here," I said. "My parents were Resistance."_

"_I know," he murmured. He did not look up from the papers. "You've my pity."_

"_Pity," I repeated, confused. All things considered, my life was certainly not terrible._

_He set aside the clipboard and rose from the chair. He closed the minimal distance between us, standing closer than necessary. "By the standards of Aberdeen's Gate, you are no longer a child. Do you know why your existence in this hell has so far been tolerable?"_

_I shook my head, unsure what the man was on about._

"_It's been tolerable," he began, "because, by age, you've been classified as a child. That aside, you've been liberally dosed on a daily basis with a serum that subdues complicated thought processes and complex emotions. Your thoughts and feelings are only shallow replicas of the real things." He paused. "Do you know what happens today?"_

_Again, I shook my head._

"_Today, we stop the treatment, and I observe how it affects you."_

_I frowned. _ "_Why?"_

_He shrugged. "Because it is documented as knowledge," he replied. "Whether or not it is _useful _knowledge makes no difference. The purpose of this prison is to experiment and record everything. It's never-ending, and, sometimes, from what I gather, it amounts to nothing. Some knowledge is simply documented and filed away forever, never to be looked at again. The purpose is merely that it exists … for the Queen and those most loyal to her, anyway."_

_I considered that for a moment, though, in all honesty, I had not followed the man's speech. Instead, I asked, "Will it hurt?"_

_The man shook his head. "I don't know."_

"_Should I be scared?"_

"_Considering the amount of serum you've been dosed with for nearly eighteen years?" He paused. "Yes. You should be terrified."_

_I was troubled, of course, but I assumed I was incapable of true fear courtesy of the serum of which he spoke. "Are you scared?" I finally asked._

"_Only of what I'm bound to become here," he said, though I did not understand._

_So, I questioned, "What is that?"_

"_A doctor," he spat the word as if it were a disease, leaving me truly puzzled._

"_It is a position of power," I pointed out. "If you wear that coat, it's who you are."_

"_The position here makes a mockery of that term," he returned. "And it is _not _who I am. It might be _what_ I am, but it's not _who_ I am."_

_Out of curiosity, I said, "Who are you then?"_

_He searched my eyes for a moment, and, at first, I wasn't certain he would reply. But, finally, he said, "I'm Devlyn Hatta _(1)_." _

_His name meant something to him, obviously, but nothing to me, of course … except for the fact that he trusted me with his name and identified himself by that name rather than calling himself Doctor._

* * *

Alice drove; she still didn't necessarily trust Hatter's driving. If the vehicle were a flying flamingo then she'd gladly turn the steering over to him. But since her SUV was decidedly _not_ an airborne pink flamingo, she preferred the driver's seat.

She and Hatter rode in silence while Alice considered everything that had occurred since Hatter's first headache. At first, she didn't make the connection. Hampered by her concern for Hatter and the lack of substantial evidence, it took a few months before Alice even realized there _was_ a connection. Perhaps there were still gaping holes yet to fill, but some of the pieces of the puzzle were creating a visible picture – one that Alice had a difficult time accepting. Yet she found it was impossible to ignore. The chessboard, the white pawn, the lion, and the unicorn, among other indications … each element was ripped right from the pages of _Through the Looking-Glass_, and Alice knew for a fact that Hatter had never ventured to even pick up her well worn copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ or its sequel, let alone actually read either one. Of course, Hatter was familiar with the Alice of Legend, so, perhaps he was, in his own way, familiar with the stories as Lewis Carroll told them, therefore somehow creating his breaks from reality during which he quoted lines from the children's classic.

"What're you thinkin'?" Hatter asked, breaking the silence between them.

"Nothing," Alice replied.

"Come on, Alice," Hatter said. "You always get that funny look when you're thinkin' too hard about somethin'."

Alice raised an eyebrow, though she didn't take her eyes off the road before her. "Funny look?" she asked.

"I can tell you're thinkin' is all," Hatter replied.

Alice shook her head. "It's stupid. It doesn't even make sense."

"You remember I'm from Wonderland, right? A lot of things don't usually make sense, at least not accordin' to Oysters, anyway."

"It's just …" Alice trailed off with a sigh. "Well, most of what you've been saying – or _writing_ – is straight out of _Through the Looking-Glass_, one of our books about your Alice of Legend. It seems like that should mean something – the Red Queen, the White Queen, the chess game."

For a moment, Hatter remained quiet as Alice parked the SUV in a parking garage roughly a block from the abandoned warehouse and the infamous Looking Glass. When they fell in step beside each other on the sidewalk outside the parking garage, Hatter finally said, "So … what, then? You're suggestin' a prophecy of sorts?"

Alice didn't believe in prophecies … at least, she hadn't believed in such nonsense a year ago. But since her trip to Wonderland, Alice had been forced to rethink a lot of things she thought she believed. "Maybe," Alice replied. "Maybe it has something to do with what we'll find in Wonderland. Or … maybe it has something to do with figuring out why this is happening to you."

She glanced at Hatter, who appeared to consider that. Then, he said, "No mystic or dreamer has made a prophecy since the Old Times. And I doubt I'm next in line for the part." Hatter waited until they crossed the street and slipped inside the dark, damp interior of the abandoned warehouse before he continued, "It's not a prophecy no matter what that Oyster wrote about the Alice of Legend. It's somethin' else, somethin' … well, I'd say it's like a map. At least, what I remember seems like a map."

_A map_, Alice thought somewhat incredulously. Considering Hatter did forget more than half of what he both said and did during those bizarre trances that now seized him all too frequently, Alice wasn't certain how far she'd be willing to trust this "map."

"Look," Hatter began as he seemed to sense Alice's skepticism, "the chessboard's like a maze instead of a game. And I'm always tryin' to figure how to get the white pawn from one end to the other. Make sense?"

"No," Alice replied.

"Good, then," Hatter said. "It doesn't make a bloody bit of sense to me either, but it is what it is, Alice."

As she and Hatter rounded another corner, Alice stopped short then, staring in shock at the corridor leading to the Looking Glass. The floor was covered in a thick blanket of snow that seemed to be blowing out through the Looking Glass in a mad swirl of white and coating the corridor. Closer toward the doorway to Wonderland, icicles hung from the ceiling.

Alice looked over at Hatter, who also appeared stunned as he attempted to process what he saw. Clearly, Wonderland was not how she and Hatter had left it, much as they had, of course, suspected. Likewise, this wintry mix of snow and ice was not an element from Hatter's trances. Instead, it was a vision stolen straight from his reoccurring nightmare … the very same nightmare that had, only recently, begun to haunt her dreams as well.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Hatta: The depiction of the Mad Hatter in _Through the Looking-Glass_, though Alice does not recognize Hatta as the Mad Hatter. Hatta is also seen with Haigha in the book. For now, I will leave you to interpret my intention for naming the young doctor of Aberdeen's Gate Devlyn Hatta ...

Once more, I'd like to extend my deepest gratitude to all of you who reviewed the previous chapter. It is, as always, much appreciated. **THANK YOU!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **First off, I really apologize for this, but I've rewritten and re-posted the conversation between the Man and Haigha in chapter 2. There was something about the details that really bothered me. Plus, with the rewrite (if you pay close attention to the woman's name mentioned!) and this chapter, some things should – hopefully – become a little clearer.

Again, thank you for reading and enjoy!

* * *

**4**

_Nobody has ever measured, even poets, how much a heart can hold._

- Zelda Fitzgerald

* * *

_At first, nothing unusual happened, and I thought it was nothing more than a rather cruel prank of Devlyn's to trouble me with talk of how I should be terrified by the absence of my daily dose of serum. Yet, despite that, I was inexplicably anxious to see him again. I wandered the Courtyard listlessly, for once failing to enjoy the comforting warmth of the sun, the aromatic fragrance of the summer blossoms, and the incomparable beauty of what I, in my incredibly limited knowledge of the world, deemed a paradise._

_Finally weary of aimlessly wandering the paths, I sank down upon one of the several wrought iron benches that decorated the Courtyard and waited. The sun dipped lower in the sky, and the shadows of the garden lengthened. By the internal schedule I kept courtesy of routine, I realized that my daily appointment was overdue. And as I continued waiting, I suffered from an unfamiliar restlessness that must have been what others called impatience._

_At long last, after what seemed an interminable amount of time, a straight-backed orderly with a sour face approached me. Oddly, it left me to question how the orderlies knew precisely where to find me at all times considering my relative freedom within the prison's boundaries._

"_The Doctor will see you for your scheduled appointment now," the orderly announced in a nasally voice that, somehow, did not suit her frigid demeanor. "I assume," she continued, "that you are familiar with the way?"_

_Despite the stressed importance of routine for the prisoners of Aberdeen's Gate, some people were always forgetful and forever required assistance to move from one place to the next, or else they ended up hopelessly lost within the prison's countless corridors and rooms. Suddenly, I wondered whether or not that forgetfulness was due to their treatments, just as my treatment apparently subdued thoughts and emotions._

_Pushing aside that speculation, I met the orderly's gaze and nodded. "Yes, I know my way."_

_Satisfied with my response, the orderly turned on heel and departed quickly, leaving me alone once more. After all, I hardly needed her guidance, and, if I failed to keep my appointment, they would, of course, find me._

_Still, for a minute longer, I remained seated. I was not going to see the Doctor, as the orderly had informed me. I was going to see Devlyn. Again, I failed to comprehend my eagerness. Perhaps it was simply a result of his decision to give me his name, which was an unwarranted admission of faith. Doctors did not have names, at least as far as the prisoners – or patients – were concerned. Regardless, I could not guess if that was the reason for my undeniable need to see him again._

_Knowing I could not wait any longer in order to further examine these strange thoughts and feelings, I rose from the bench. When I stood, the world seemed to tilt before me. My pulse raced, and I resisted the urge to slump backward into the stability of the wrought iron bench. I closed my eyes and drew in several deep breaths. After the sensation passed, I shook my head and left the Courtyard, following that ever familiar path into the depths of Aberdeen's Gate._

_When I reached the white screen, I hesitated as I experienced a strange fluttering in the pit of my stomach. Then, I stepped around the screen and found Devlyn once again sitting in my chair. Without preamble, I said, "Yesterday, I told you that I sit in that chair." I was not exactly reprimanding him, but rather … it almost felt as if I were teasing him, which seemed the most bizarre realization I'd ever had._

_Devlyn glanced up at me, raising an eyebrow. "Does it irritate you?"_

_Irritation … I wondered whether or not I was even aware of _how_ irritation felt. Of course, I thought I understood the definition, but definition differed by far from the actual experience. Still, even based upon definition, I did not believe I was irritated, though perhaps I was bothered at being kept waiting longer than usual for my appointment. _

"_No," I finally replied. "I am not irritated. But I wonder why I've been kept waiting so long to meet with you. My treatment is scheduled for the same time every day, and I do not recall it ever being postponed."_

_Devlyn shrugged, and he did not appear even remotely apologetic. "You are no longer being _treated_," Devlyn pointed out. "Besides, I have other obligations. In fact, I was even asked this morning to consider redesigning the Great Vault." He studied my reaction to that particular statement and said, "You fear the Great Vault."_

"_No," I whispered, and I thought that was the truth. "I would just rather pretend that it does not exist."_

"_Pretending it doesn't exist doesn't make it disappear," Devlyn said. I could not explain it, but it sounded as if he were warning me of some horror I'd yet to confront. Naturally, it seemed absurd, and I merely attributed it to the fact that I did not, at the moment, feel like myself._

"_And that does not trouble you." It was a statement, not a question._

"_Of course it troubles me," Devlyn snapped, surprising me with his vehemence. "This whole damn place _troubles_ me. But I'd rather survive than entertain my conscience. The cost of having morals in Wonderland is too high a price … something I'm learning rather quickly."_

"_Thinking that way is … cowardly," I replied even as I wondered how and when that particular thought developed. It was not something I would have considered just the other day; I was certain._

_I imagined my observation should have angered Devlyn. Instead, I noticed a fleeting smile pull at the corners of his mouth before it disappeared just as quickly. "So you plan to lecture me, then?" Devlyn asked. "You – a prisoner who knows absolutely nothing of the world – plan to enlighten me on the difference between right and wrong, courage and cowardice?" He snorted in disbelief. "Well, call it whatever you will, but I _like_ living. In fact, I've grown quite fond of it, and I'm certainly not about to trade my life for a date with the Queen's headsman … or prison shackles, for that matter. You should start to understand what living actually means once your body purges that serum. Maybe then, you'll appreciate my decision, if not respect it." I thought Devlyn meant to add: "I do not respect it myself," but he did not._

"_Yesterday," I began, "you told me that this hell has been tolerable because of the serum, which subdues my ability to think and feel. If living is comprised of actual thought and actual emotion then I should prefer _not_ knowing what it means to live."_

_Devlyn looked surprised. I was, in fact, surprised by my own assessment. "Your body must be purging the serum far quicker than I assumed possible," he murmured, almost to himself. He cleared his throat. "You make a good observation, by the way – an observation which, ultimately, makes no difference. You are finished with the serum – your treatment – and you will be forced to cope with whatever follows." He paused. "For that, you have my sympathy." _

_And I genuinely believed Devlyn's admission of empathy, but, all things considered, it mattered little._

_Devlyn stood then and approached me. "Do you mind if I check your pulse?" he asked. _

_I nodded because it was, of course, routine. Yet none of the other Doctors ever asked permission to touch me. He took my hand and turned my palm upward while his fingertips sought my wrist. His hand was cool against my suddenly flushed skin, his touch gentle. Before long, he commented, "Your pulse is faster than previous readings." _

"_Is that bad?" I asked while his hand lingered on mine. _

_Seemingly embarrassed suddenly, Devlyn dropped my hand and stepped back. "No, actually," he replied. "The serum slowed the rate of your pulse. Now, it is near normal." He studied me quietly and frowned. "Do you feel faint or ill?" he finally questioned._

_I shook my head. "No," I replied. "Why?"_

"_You are very pale," Devlyn pointed out, and I noted the concern evidenced by his voice._

"_I'm fine," I said even as I thought back to the Courtyard when I rose from the bench and the world around me tipped unexpectedly, leaving me both momentarily dizzy and weak._

"_All right," Devlyn conceded, though he did not necessarily look convinced. "Take a seat in the chair," he instructed. "I've only a few questions for you, and then we are finished for today."_

_I took one step toward the chair, and, without warning, everything spun round before my eyes. My vision darkened and my stomach churned. I heard Devlyn call my name, and I was vaguely aware of the fact that he caught me before I collapsed, but I did not recall anything after that._

* * *

As Alice continued to stare at the snow almost uncomprehendingly, it suddenly occurred to her that, despite the snow, she was not actually cold. Curious, Alice crouched down and reached out a hand in order to touch the snow. Instead, she only felt the cool tile of the floor. "It's not real," she said in disbelief. "It's just … an illusion."

After a stretch of silence, Hatter replied, "Just a reflection, I think." When Alice stood, he continued, "I'm not pretendin' to know the particulars of the Lookin' Glass. I really don't know how it all works, but it's been known to give off reflections from the world on the other side." He hesitated. "That probably means that whatever's happenin' in Wonderland's a lot worse than we figured."

Alice swallowed. "Yeah, I think I got that part already."

Together, she and Hatter cautiously approached the Looking Glass, though caution seemed rather unnecessary considering that they planned on entering Wonderland, dangerous or not. When she and Hatter stood before the glass, Alice looked over at him.

"Nervous?" he asked.

"A little," Alice admitted. "You?"

"Yeah," Hatter said. But Alice wondered if Hatter's apprehension was due to his concern for Wonderland or his worry that he might not find answers. In truth, Alice attributed much of her own trepidation to the very real possibility that even a return to Wonderland might not yield a cure for Hatter's mysterious affliction.

"Well," Hatter began, "no use waitin' around, right? Starin' at the Glass won't fix things."

_True_, Alice thought. Still, a thought occurred to her. "Maybe …" Alice's voice trailed off, however, as, without warning, Hatter abruptly walked through the Looking Glass. "_Maybe_," Alice began to no one in particular, "we should think about grabbing some coats first. But, apparently not," she muttered. Well, perhaps she could at least hope that snow wasn't necessarily the same in Wonderland as it was in her world. Perhaps snow could mysteriously exist in Wonderland without the weather actually being cold.

That seemed unlikely, even for Wonderland. And though Alice desperately wished she'd brought a winter coat – hat and gloves included – she obviously could not take the time to return to her and Hatter's apartment.

Thus, Alice followed Hatter.

Alice hated the fall – the trip between her world and Wonderland. It reminded her so very much of her frequent nightmare, which was courtesy of her acrophobia, the irrational fear of heights that had not been fully cured despite her adventures in Wonderland. In the nightmare, Alice stood precariously upon the edge of a mountain peak and looked down upon the world below. It was, without doubt, the most breathtaking sight she'd ever witnessed, but the beauty was obscured by her fear. Each time she meant to step back from the cliff's edge, she inexplicably stepped forward and therefore plunged forward off of the cliff, falling through nothingness.

When Alice landed on the other side of the Looking Glass, back in Wonderland once more, Hatter offered her his hand, helping Alice to her feet. As Alice grasped Hatter's hand and stood, she realized quite quickly that winter in Wonderland worked just like winter worked in her own world. Despite the fact that the Looking Glass was housed indoors, it was bitterly cold. She shivered against the icy chill that permeated the corridor and now felt more than a little annoyed by Hatter's spontaneity at jumping through the Looking Glass without preamble. Alice glared at him, and, apparently understanding why she was less than thrilled, Hatter said, "We'll find some coats, don't worry."

"_Before_ we freeze to death?" Alice snapped as her teeth chattered.

"It isn't _that_ cold," Hatter returned.

All right, admittedly, Alice never handled the cold very well, and, holidays aside, she rather hated winter all together. Still, it _was_ cold enough to warrant the warmth of a coat and gloves, no matter what Hatter claimed.

Though Alice had little time to contemplate freezing or mourn the absence of her coat. At that moment, a youthful and decidedly unintimidating voice snapped, "It's about time!" Regardless, Alice jumped slightly, startled by the unexpected sound.

She and Hatter both turned as a young girl stepped out of the shadows. The girl had blonde hair, blue eyes, and looked every bit the part of a girl destined to play the traditional role of Alice in a cinematic adaptation of Carroll's classic books.

"I knew you would forget coats," the precocious child announced. "So I brought them for you," she added as she handed long, white overcoats to Alice and Hatter, both of whom were stunned by her sudden appearance. As she handed the coat to a dumbfounded Alice, she said, "You must be Alice, of course. My daddy always told me stories about you. He said that he knew you. My mother – I guess you'd know her as the Duchess – doesn't like that my daddy knew you, but I'm not sure why." She paused, taking a breath. "I'm Lily Heart, by the way. I'm the Princess of Wonderland."

Alice tried to follow the child's rapid speech. "Princess?" she echoed, thoroughly confused. She did not recall there being a young princess upon her last visit through the infamous Looking Glass. And, according to Lily, Alice had known the girl's father. That was stranger still, leaving Alice to wonder just who the child's father could possibly be.

"Yes," Lily replied slowly, looking at Alice as if she thought Alice was daft. "You _must_ remember my daddy, the King of Wonderland." When Alice failed to comprehend by any response of acknowledgement, Lily Heart huffed irritably. "Jack Heart," she snapped.

"Jack?" Alice questioned, still not following. After all, how was that even possible? Lily appeared no older than nine years of age, perhaps ten. And Alice had only left Wonderland a year earlier.

"There's no tellin' how time works in Wonderland compared to your world," Hatter murmured, reminding Alice that, according to the time kept in her world, she'd only been missing for an hour. Meanwhile, in Wonderland, it felt as if _days_, at least, had passed. "Time's different in Wonderland," Hatter added.

"So how much time – _here_ – has passed since we left?" Alice asked.

Again, Lily studied her as if she were an idiot. Though, Alice reasoned, as a very young child of Wonderland, Lily probably didn't understand much about the Looking Glass or the world on the other side of it. Thus, she likely didn't realize that time flowed differently. "My daddy said that you left about two years before I was born," Lily informed Alice and Hatter. "It's been twelve years since you left."

Alice heard Hatter mutter something undistinguishable beneath his breath. Apparently, even for Hatter, the realization that twelve years had passed since he abandoned his home came as a shock. "A lot can happen in twelve years," he finally said, clearly still sounding baffled.

_Obviously_, Alice thought dryly. Still, she kept her attention on Lily and asked only one of the many questions to which she and Hatter needed answers. "What happened here?"

"Well …" Lily's voice trailed off. "I'm not exactly sure. But I know it has something to do with Red."

"The Red Queen?" Alice asked, thinking about Lewis Carroll's _Through the Looking-Glass_. Meanwhile, Hatter simultaneously echoed, "Red?"

"No," Lily replied, addressing Alice. "Just Red, like he said," she added as she nodded toward Hatter. "She came to the Heart Palace two years ago. My mother was very ill, and no one could figure out what was making her sick. Red saved her and stayed at the palace. I never liked her because something seemed … wrong with her. Then, the rain started, and people just stopped caring. They all seemed sad, and that's why I call this the Sadness." Lily hesitated, appearing upset. "Finally," she whispered, "the rain turned to snow, and that's when my daddy became sad. Gryphon told me that's because even _he_ couldn't fight the Sadness forever."

"Who's Gryphon?" Hatter asked while Alice attempted to make sense of everything Lily had just told them.

"Red's assistant," Lily replied matter-of-factly. "Gryphon gave me a bottle of dreams, you know. He told me to use it wisely. He also said that the Sadness hadn't infected me yet, so I could fight Red. I could be like the child Alice of Legend." Alice noted that Lily appeared rather proud of the comparison with the Alice of Legend. Then, after drawing another breath, Lily continued, "At first, I didn't think it worked. But then, I did have a dream, and the dream told me to wait at the Looking Glass for you and Hatter. So, I _have_ been waiting – for a really long time, actually." Lily crossed her arms then, shooting an accusatory glare at both Alice and Hatter. "Now that you _are_ here, I'll be your guide."

Alice raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with Hatter. Based on the observations of a child, it was, of course, difficult to assess the true situation in Wonderland. Regardless, the girl _was_ Jack's daughter. Though Alice could, conceivably, doubt the girl's claim, she recognized the undeniable resemblance, not only to Jack but to the Duchess as well. Even centered on that observation, Alice realized there was an inherent risk in trusting this girl. Still, it was more than apparent that she and Hatter were going to desperately need any allies they could find, even if the ally happened to be a ten-year-old girl who claimed to be Jack Heart's daughter without any further proof than her word and her resemblance to her parents. Resemblance, however, could be a debatable factor based on the observer.

"If you're our guide," Hatter finally said as he yanked on the white overcoat and ended Alice's internal debate, "then where do we start?"

"The town of Lutwidge (1)," Lily responded without hesitation.

The name, naturally, meant nothing to Alice, but she noticed Hatter pale considerably at Lily's announcement of their intended destination if they planned on following the girl's guidance.

"Are we lookin' for anyone exactly?" Hatter's voice was strained.

"Yes," Lily returned. "We're looking for Gretna."

The muscle in Hatter's jaw worked, and Alice watched as his hands curled into fists by his sides, leaving Alice to realize that Hatter knew precisely who Gretna was. And, obviously, he wasn't thrilled by the knowledge.

"That's a very bad idea," Hatter managed to say.

"Bad idea or not, it's where we have to go," Lily insisted. "If we want to fix Wonderland, we _have_ to start there."

"No," Hatter said as he tried reasoning with the girl. "Gretna's not goin' to help us, least of all me."

At his response, Lily crossed her arms and lifted her chin as she assumed what Alice surmised was supposed to be a royally condescending posture fit for a future queen. "We _will_ start in Lutwidge, and we _will_ talk to Gretna. The dreams don't lie. They told me to come here. They told me to wait for you. They even told me to bring coats because you would forget yours. And they told me to take both of you to Lutwidge. So _that_ is where we _have_ to go." Lily's gaze moved between Alice and Hatter before she said, "Now, come on. We've wasted too much time already."

Lily turned then, heading directly for the exit and leaving Alice and Hatter alone. Clearly, she simply assumed that they would follow, but Alice hesitated, as did Hatter.

"We don't have to listen to her," Alice suggested quietly. Though, admittedly, whether Alice fully trusted Lily or not was irrelevant. Whatever Lily's ultimate allegiance, Alice was reluctant to leave the young girl alone to fend for herself. Though, perhaps, less than honorable intentions on Lily's part seemed, at this point, unlikely. If it were a trap, why send a mere child to journey to the Looking Glass alone? And, clearly, no one else was with Lily within this vacant building.

Obviously, Hatter shared that sentiment. "We can't just leave her." He paused. "But keep alert, Alice. Things in Wonderland aren't always what they seem."

Alice nodded, but, before they followed Lily, she asked, "Who is Gretna?"

At first, Alice wasn't certain whether or not Hatter would answer. Finally, he replied, "She's my mum."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

(1) – Lutwidge: Lewis Carroll was a pseudonym used by Charles Lutwidge Dodgson. I took the liberty of using his middle name for the name of the town to which Lily refers.

**THANK YOU** again for all the lovely reviews :-D


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **This chapter is ridiculously long, to me. I apologize for that, as I try to keep the chapters a bit more manageable … anyway, to clarify: the italicized parts are meant to take place in the neighborhood of 20 to 30 years prior to Alice's arrival in Wonderland. Thanks so much for reading and enjoy!

* * *

**5**

_The ruling passion, be it what it will, the ruling passion conquers reason still._

- Alexander Pope

* * *

_I slipped between consciousness and unconsciousness. I did not know how much time passed. Occasionally, I heard voices, but I could hardly make sense of the words; it was as if the speakers were communicating in a foreign tongue. Despite my relative incoherence while I was, in fact, awake, I was still inexplicably aware of Devlyn's presence. Each time I opened my eyes, seeking some respite from the hell that had erupted within my mind and heart he was by my side, always. Though I did not understand him, he spoke to me, comforting me in this torture as best he could, and I briefly recall wondering why – why I meant anything to him at all._

_When I finally woke for the first time feeling acutely aware of my surroundings – my mind, my heart, my senses – I silently observed the sterile white room and realized I was in a bed with my wrists and ankles bound. Panic gripped me with an intensity that I had never before known. I fought back the rising tide, biting my lip until it bled. _

_Devlyn was not here._

_The door to my tiny, unadorned room opened then, and I heard his voice. Focusing on the sound, I willed away the rush of utter terror as best I could._

"_You listen to me, Ballard," Devlyn hissed. "She stays _here_. Mark that in your damn file. No one touches her."_

"_You've had your chance, Hatta," the man called Ballard returned, and I did not recognize his voice. "The girl is clearly damaged, and you have wasted enough time. I've been fool enough to let you waste so much time. I am issuing the order that she be relocated to the Great Vault." Ballard paused. "And need I remind you that you have been commissioned to redesign the Great Vault? Because of your prolonged fancy for this insignificant girl, you have failed to produce results. I imagine you remember what failure means." The weight of Ballard's warning and threat was obvious even to me._

_Regardless, Devlyn brushed it aside. "You touch her – you even _think _about moving her – and you will regret it."_

_Ballard snorted. "You are not suited to play the part of hero, _Doctor_. Nor are you suited for selflessness, especially when it is so clearly irrational," he added. "You value reason, but this is unreasonable. Now, I will grant you, the girl's desirable enough, but hardly worth such sacrifice. You know that as well as I do, yet you persist in this nonsense. If you were not so valuable, you would've been sent to the Queen's headsman already."_

"_I am valuable," Devlyn agreed, and he lacked any trace of modesty just as he had on the day I met him and he proclaimed himself a genius. "And I know more than you could ever hope to know," he added. "I believe you are facing pressure as well, Ballard – the pressure to produce tangible results that will satisfy the Queen. You are, after all, the one who answers to the Queen for us."_

"_What is your _point_, exactly?" Ballard bit out._

"_I have shown you my preliminary plans for the Vault. Your brain might not be capable of comprehending it, but you are intelligent enough to understand its potential once it is completed. I could give you the darkest of all emotions, a powerful weapon I'm sure … a powerful weapon for a Queen who is slowly but inevitably losing ground. I can give you fear and sadness, or rage, if you'd like. Perhaps I can even create madness."_

"_We have yet to harvest such emotions," Ballard said. "We have not even succeeded with the few Oysters we collect here and there. And the Oysters emotions are, by far, stronger than ours. What makes you so certain that you can accomplish what so many others failed to achieve?"_

"_What makes you so certain that I can't?" Devlyn returned. "And, more to the point, is it a chance you're willing to take?" Silence stretched between the two men before Devlyn continued, "I can make this happen, and you, Ballard, can take the credit for all I care. Impress the Queen, but leave Red to me." He paused. "I need an assistant anyway."_

"_An assistant?" Ballard echoed incredulously. "Are you mad, Hatta?" he spat._

"_Probably, I'm sure," Devlyn replied. "But you're a clever enough man, Ballard. I think you realize better than anyone what I am capable of creating. If you promise to leave Red with me, the Great Vault will produce the most horrific emotions, I promise you. You will, undoubtedly, be the Queen's favorite."_

"_I expect far more than the Vault in exchange for this idiocy. Have you anything else of interest to offer?"_

"_The Queen might be entertained by dreams." I noticed the irritation in Devlyn's voice at Ballard's insistence that he pay a higher price than just redesigning the Great Vault._

"_Dreams," Ballard repeated as if the word were almost foreign._

"_It has been an age since the mystics of Wonderland last dreamed," Devlyn replied. "Other people in Wonderland … well, simply put, _we _don't dream, not like Oysters. I've liquefied them – the dreams, that is. One drop for a dream – it's a cheap trick, really. But entertaining, nonetheless. Perhaps even beneficial. After all, the mystics were never wrong, so the books tell us."_

"_Bring me the dreams," Ballard finally replied. "I'll see it for myself. As for the girl … well, I will, of course, have to think on it."_

"_I expected as much," Devlyn responded dryly._

_Neither man exchanged a farewell. The door simply closed, indicating Ballard's departure._

_When Devlyn approached me, he said, "You're awake." He undid the cuffs at my ankles. As he moved to my wrists, his hands stilled, and he studied me, frowning. I did not understand what he saw. Perhaps he noticed fear or confusion, but whatever he witnessed, it surprised him. "Red," he stated. Shaking himself, he quickly undid the cuffs around my wrists, and I shot upright._

"_Were you expecting someone else?" I asked as I was bewildered by the way he said my name. "How long have I been in this room?" I continued without giving him the chance to answer my first question. "What's happened to me? Why am I bound?"_

"_One question at a time, perhaps," Devlyn murmured, and I quieted, watching him expectantly. "You have been in this room nearly half a year and you are bound because it is protocol when I am not with you. You did accept that condition, by the way."_

"_What are you talking about? I have been unconscious."_

"_Well, _you _have been, that's true," Devlyn replied. "Scarlett (1), however, has not." When I opened my mouth, he raised a hand and quickly continued, "Near as I can tell, withdraw from the serum caused something of a break in your … person, so to speak. Scarlett emerged perhaps a month after you collapsed, and _she _has been more than coherent since. That is why Ballard thinks you are damaged – because you are not … well, you're not _you_." He paused. "Do you mean to tell me you don't remember any of it? I speculated that once _you _actually emerged that you and Scarlett would integrate and become whole again."_

"_But I remember coming in and out of consciousness," I said as I tried to make sense of all Devlyn was telling me._

"_Scarlett – _you _– experienced severe headaches," Devlyn explained. "Maybe that was you trying to break the surface again, but you didn't manage until now." Devlyn watched me for a moment. "You honestly don't remember anything?" _

_I shook my head, but, even as I did, I closed my eyes. I recalled the strange conversations and my both curious and constant awareness of Devlyn. I saw flashes but nothing substantial except … "I see a chessboard." I wasn't even aware that I knew what chess was until that second._

"_We've played the game often enough," Devlyn said. "You rather enjoyed it. You even suggested that I use a chessboard as my design for the Great Vault."_

* * *

Alice and Hatter followed Lily through the city. The snow and ice aside, the city looked far different than Alice remembered – the buildings, the streets … and the bizarre fact that the only colors Alice noticed were black and white. Even Hatter seemed disoriented as they trailed Lily through unfamiliar streets.

"It's nothin' like we left it," Hatter observed aloud.

Alice wondered if it troubled Hatter that his home had changed so greatly in his absence. However, Lily quelled any thought of asking Hatter that very question when she stopped suddenly and turned around, pressing a finger to her lips. "Keep quiet," she hissed as she glared daggers at Hatter and looking at him as if he had committed a deadly sin. However, rather than explain her demand for silence, Lily continued forward.

Though Alice bristled at Lily's imperious tone, she reminded herself that Lily was, after all, only a child. That aside, Lily was also a princess, which probably meant she was accustomed to issuing orders without thought of reprimand for her haughty behavior.

In other words, Lily was, undoubtedly, little more than a child spoiled by her lofty position.

Regardless, Hatter didn't seem to possess any qualms about questioning her royal highness's decree of silence. "Any particular reason we've got to sneak around the city?" he asked. "Or do you just like tellin' people what to do?"

Again, Lily stopped, and her hand balled into fists, her agitation evident. She glanced over her shoulder. "There are people in the city," she whispered so softly that one might think she was imparting the most sensitive of secrets. "And you don't want those people to know that we're here. I haven't seen them, but I was warned about them."

"Who warned you?" Hatter questioned, though he kept his voice low now.

"There was a clothing shop," Lily replied. She was obviously growing exasperated with Hatter's insistence at continuing the conversation. "That's where I found coats for you. And a new one for myself," she added. "There was an old Oyster who ran the shop, and he told me about the bad people who own the city now. I don't know much else," Lily admitted. "But we need to go. _Please_. It's not safe outside, not in the city. We have to leave."

Lily's words and desperate plea chilled Alice, and she wondered to what "bad people" Lily referred. Any number of terrifying images darted through her mind as she was suddenly reminded of every last horror film she'd ever seen. The frozen, eerily quiet, and seemingly empty city served as the ideal backdrop for the darkest of visions concocted by fiction.

Both Alice and Hatter eyed their surroundings warily, alert as they obliged Lily, who led them through the labyrinth of streets and alleys. Even Hatter, Alice imagined, would have found it near impossible to navigate the city, courtesy of his lengthy absence and the infinite changes twelve years had brought upon Wonderland and the city that had once been home to his infamous tea shop.

When the trio at last passed the city limits without incident – for which Alice was exceedingly grateful – Alice gazed out across the vast meadows and the forests beyond. The land as far as she could see was blanketed in white, and the snow glistened in the light of the pale winter sun. The view should have been breathtaking, but the spectacular sight was unnatural, for Alice remembered Hatter telling her that, in Wonderland, snow only ever fell in the mountains.

Yet, despite the question over winter's curious lease, Alice found her attention drawn toward what looked, from their vantage point, to be random clusters of villages and farms. She'd traversed the forest of the Jabberwocky and stayed at the ruins where Charlie, the White Knight, lived, but Alice did not recall seeing anything quite so … rural. This was a part of Wonderland she'd not actually seen during her last visit.

"This used to be abandoned," Hatter said. "All of it. People didn't much care for a place where you couldn't buy tea, and you couldn't buy it here."

Lily nodded as she started descending the hillside in the direction of the closest village, leaving Alice and Hatter to follow. "My daddy told me about tea," she said. "He said everyone wanted more of it, and they abandoned their … how did he put it?" Lily paused, apparently thinking. "Honest work," she finally finished. "Now, they've gone back to it since the tea is gone."

"Sounds about right," Hatter murmured.

"My daddy told me about you too," Lily announced to Hatter as the trio reached the outskirts of the quaint little village that appeared as charming as one in a child's fairytale. "He said you sold tea."

"Your dad," Hatter began, "talks a bit too much, I think."

"I never said he didn't like you," Lily pointed out, seeming to interpret Hatter's tone. "He only said you sold tea. Oh! And, of course, he mentioned you helped Alice and then left with Alice … or after Alice, anyway. I'm not really sure which. _But_, he never said he didn't like you," Lily said, repeating the words with which she'd started.

"I can only guess what Jack Heart thinks of me," Hatter replied.

"I don't think he really thinks about you at all," Lily returned while Hatter shook his head. Alice assumed that Hatter, like she, realized that Lily failed to miss the implication intended by Hatter's statement. "I came through this village on the way to the city," Lily continued as she breezed over the conversation she'd just been having with Hatter, quickly moving to another topic. "I left my mare, Lorina, in the stables because I didn't want to take her into the city. There are other horses. After all, I wouldn't leave Lorina without friends." Lily paused, taking a second to actually draw a breath. "You two could borrow horses."

_Borrow or steal_, Alice wondered. However, based on the unnaturally quiet village, Alice doubted there was anyone even around from whom to steal. Perhaps until this cold spell, the village had thrived; Alice didn't obviously know. Yet now, despite its neat appearance, the village was clearly little more than a ghost town, vacant of any activity to indicate people did, in fact, live here.

She, Hatter, and Lily walked in silence then, making their way through the snow covered streets of well-kept houses and small shops until they came upon a gradually sloped path that led upward toward a house much larger than the rest that occupied far more land. Lily pointed out the stable to the right of the grand house. "I left Lorina there," she said.

Though Lily seemed innocently unconcerned, Alice and Hatter approached the building with far more caution while keeping alert for anything amiss … such as the mysterious "bad people" Lily told them about. When they finally rounded the corner of the stable, Alice stopped short when she saw a tall, broad-shouldered man tossing snow covered bales of hay into the stable. She glanced over at Hatter, who visibly tensed, bracing for a fight.

Perhaps having heard their approach, the man paused in his work and glanced in their direction. His eyes were black, which was a startling contrast to his pale skin and white hair. Before either Alice or Hatter could think to say a word, the man simply returned to his work, never acknowledging them.

"He's Sad," Lily explained. "You don't have to worry about the ones who are Sad. They either wander around or just do the little things that are routine for them. But mostly, they don't pay attention because they don't care. It's the _other_ ones you have to worry about … well, _some_ of the other ones, anyway. I don't think they're all bad. But they're the ones like Gryphon who are too dead inside to be Sad." Lily paused. "I don't know what that means – to be dead inside. But some of the dead ones are evil, and they're trying to rule Wonderland because no one else cares. Even Red doesn't really want to rule Wonderland, I don't think. She just wants people to be cold and sad, like her. But I don't feel sorry for her. She's still a terrible person to do this to everyone."

"But why do all of this if not for power?" Alice wondered aloud.

"Some people are just bloody daft," Hatter suggested. "There's no tellin' what they're about."

_That_, Alice figured, was an understatement.

Then, Lily rushed over to a rather small horse that was obviously Lorina. As she cooed at the horse and patted her head, Hatter turned his attention to the only other three horses, still in their respective stalls. One of the horses was decrepit and visibly incapable of carrying a rider upon its sagging back. As Alice followed Hatter, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the elderly horse that was apparently nearing the end of its days.

When she and Hatter reached the only other occupied stalls, Alice glanced between the remaining horses. One horse was pure white while the other was pure black – an appropriate color scheme which seemed to suit this new colorless version of Wonderland just fine.

"I'll take the white one," Alice announced. The black horse was a monster, and it had been far too long since she'd last sat astride a horse. Thus, Alice would much rather take her chances with the docile-looking one.

Hatter shot her a look that clearly called her a coward, and Alice suppressed the impish urge to stick her tongue out at him.

Lily was more than proficient at saddling her own horse, and she waited astride her pony-like mare with a look of impatience as Hatter helped Alice saddle her horse before he moved toward the black monster. With that process complete, Alice and Hatter mounted their respective horses, and Lily announced, "They should have names." She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a second. "She'll be Tertia," Lily said, referring to Alice's horse. "And yours," Lily began, looking at Hatter, "will be Pleasance." At that declaration, Alice bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from laughing.

"Really," Hatter said dryly.

Lily nodded. "Yes, it's settled." She tugged on Lorina's reigns, turning her toward the stable's exit.

"Bloody brilliant," Hatter said as Lily departed the building. "My horse's name is _Pleasance_."

Alice snorted, unable to hold back her laughter. "The look you gave her was priceless."

"Well, I'm glad you're amused," Hatter returned. He tried to sound annoyed but failed. As he urged Pleasance – the black beast of a horse – forward, he glanced at Alice. "Did you ever mention you wanted children?"

"No," Alice replied with laughter still evident in her voice.

"Good."

When she and Hatter caught up with Lily, she said to Hatter, "Since you seem to know the way to Lutwidge, you can lead. But we should keep away from the main roads."

Alice noticed that Lily's mention of Lutwidge dampened Hatter's mood. "I still say it's a bad idea," he muttered before taking the lead and kicking Pleasance into a fierce gallop.

"Well," Lily sniffed. "At least he's moving _faster_ now."

After a time, the trio slowed their furious pace, allowing the horses a break as they ambled slowly through the forest for a time. Hatter, however, did not join Alice and Lily but kept his distance at the head of the small party. Though Alice wanted desperately to talk to him, she doubted this was the time. Whatever memories he was dealing with, he didn't want Alice at the moment; that much was apparent. Perhaps it should have troubled her, but Alice was rational enough to realize everyone had secrets – everyone had a past that wasn't necessarily open for discussion. Some memories were simply too painful, even with time.

So, to take her mind off of Hatter, the thoughts that were likely bothering him as they neared Lutwidge, and his uncharacteristically brooding demeanor, Alice turned to Lily and attempted to start piecing together this bizarre puzzle laid out before her.

"Do you know anything else about the Sadness?" Alice asked.

"Well … not really," Lily admitted. "When I was at the palace, Gryphon told me that he was dead inside – that he'd seen too much. I guess that kept him from being infected by the Sadness. Then, Red said I was innocent, so I guess it can't infect me either." She hesitated. "It's the dead ones that scare me. Most of them are bad people. Some of them kill, and some of them hurt others just because they enjoy it. Those kinds of people can't feel sad."

"Because they don't feel remorse," Alice reasoned.

"I guess, for some of them," Lily replied. "But some just can't feel anymore because life's been mean to them, like Gryphon. They aren't bad people, not like the others. They're just … dead, like Gryphon."

Though Alice wanted to question Lily further about Gryphon, a thought suddenly struck her. "Do you think it might infect us – me and Hatter?"

Lily shrugged. "I don't think the Sadness will infect you because you're an Oyster. There are still lots of Oysters in our world. The Oyster at the clothing shop was very nice, and his eyes were brown. So, that means he wasn't infected, but he didn't seem dead either." Lily paused, apparently thinking. "Different things make us sick, you know. I remember hearing that when my mother was sick. We're mostly the same as Oysters, but there are differences." Lily nodded toward Hatter up ahead. "But it might hurt him eventually because he is from Wonderland. I don't know." She sighed. "That's why we can't waste time. Hatter's very important. My dreams told me that. Without him, we can't fix this."

"_It's somethin' else, somethin' … well, I'd say it's like a map. At least, what I remember seems like a map."_

Alice thought of Hatter's earlier words. Perhaps Hatter's bizarre visions _were _the key to solving this riddle.

She and Lily rode in silence then while Hatter also made no effort to start a conversation.

The trio arrived at their destination not long after nightfall, and Lutwidge was surprisingly not nearly as far from the city as Alice had imagined. After crossing the ramshackle bridge that Alice barely trusted, they ended on the opposite bank of a frozen river in the town of Lutwidge. Unlike the previous village where she and Hatter had "borrowed" their horses, Lutwidge appeared both ancient and neglected. But, similar to the other village, Alice did not notice a single person or any other indication that the town was inhabited.

Hatter navigated them through the narrow streets, finally stopping before a dilapidated cottage that appeared smaller than her and Hatter's apartment. Alice noticed a dim glow from behind the tiny, grimy windows – the first sign of life they'd yet encountered.

After dismounting, Hatter helped Lily down from Lorina before turning to Alice and aiding her descent as well. Her back ached from the long ride, and her legs felt stiff.

"You all right, Alice?" Hatter asked.

Noticing the strained look upon his face, Alice ignored his question and said, "We don't have to do this. _You_ don't have to do this." Alice could not imagine what sort of relationship Hatter had with his mother to warrant such a pained look. Again, she wanted to ask what exactly had happened between him and his family, but she supposed she was near to discovering that answer. At this point, the only thing Alice knew for certain about Hatter's family was that he was an only child.

"Lily and I could talk to Gretna," Alice suggested.

"_No_," Lily said as she brushed past them. "_He_ has to talk to her." Then, without waiting for them, Lily marched straight to the front door and raised the rusted knocker. She banged the knocker several times before she was satisfied.

At first, Alice wondered if anyone would even answer. For a long while, they stood outside, waiting. Then, just as Lily was about to reach for the knocker again, the door jerked open. An elderly woman stood in the doorway illuminated by the light in the foyer. She was tall and rigid, with her white hair scraped back into a knot at the nape of her neck. Small glasses perched on the end of her nose, and her face was lined with age. Regardless, she was still a striking woman.

"What do you want?" the older woman demanded.

Looking up at her, Lily pointed out, "You're eyes are green. You're not Sad." She paused before asking, "Are you Gretna?"

"Not that it should matter to you, but yes. Now go away, you filthy little beggar," Gretna snapped. But before she could close the door, Lily stuck out her foot, preventing Gretna's action.

Then, Lily assumed her imperious posture, raising her chin defiantly. "I am the Princess of Wonderland, Lily Heart, and I demand that you speak with us."

Gretna's eyes narrowed as she glared at Lily while she appeared to be debating Lily's claim. In the end, she must have decided it would not be worth it to take a chance offending the Princess, even if she didn't necessarily trust Lily.

She opened the door wide, stepping back as Lily walked inside, leaving Alice and Hatter still outside. "I'm not going to stand here forever," Gretna barked even as she squinted, staring at Hatter. She appeared to be searching her memory. Finally, she said, "So, you're not dead. I guess you _were_ that vile man I heard about then – the one what ran the tea shop in the city."

"Nice to see you too, mum," Hatter returned, clearly having anticipated such a response from his mother.

Regardless of what Hatter may have been prepared for, Alice couldn't help looking between mother and son, shocked by this frigid reunion.

"So," Hatter began as he pressed his hand against Alice's back and guided her past Gretna and into the relative warmth of the house, "is that what you told people, then? You told them I was dead?"

"Yes, I told them you drowned in the river," Gretna returned matter-of-factly as she closed the door.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

(1) – Scarlett: This name serves no other purpose other than the fact that's it's another shade of red.

**THANK YOU **for all of the lovely reviews. You make me smile :-D


	7. Chapter 7

As always, enjoy :-D

* * *

**6**

_The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain._

- Lord Byron

* * *

_Devlyn expected Scarlett's memories to integrate with mine because, after all, Scarlett _was_ me. Occasionally, during those first few weeks of regaining full awareness, I suffered flashes that occurred as painful explosions inside my head – vague remnants of the time during which I'd been trapped inside of my own mind while another consciousness emerged, living for me. Aside from the images the flitted now and again through my mind, I experienced emotions and knew things – such as how to play chess – that I realized I could not have possibly felt or understood prior to collapsing in Devlyn's arms nearly six months earlier. Of course, I attributed both the feelings and the knowledge to Scarlett … which, I continued to remind myself, was actually me._

_Perhaps most unsettling of all the emotions that inundated me was my affection for Devlyn … dare I even call it love. Of course, I remembered that curious sensation that had swept over me that day in the Courtyard as I anxiously awaited my appointment with Devlyn. But I could not relate that sensation to anything substantial – certainly not affection or love … or desire._

_As I watched Devlyn pace the length of the small room and back, flipping through the pages of a file, it occurred to me that I _knew_ him – the taste of him, the feel of him, the warmth of him. And it _should _have unnerved me that Scarlett shared such intimacies with him in the privacy of this sterile white room where only Devlyn entered, shielding me from the other doctors and those who would experiment further upon me or banish me to the Great Vault. I understood that Devlyn's value and intellect alone were the reasons for his ability to coerce the others into abiding by his demands – Ballard included. When the Queen's continued satisfaction was at stake, no one at Aberdeen's Gate could afford to lose Devlyn, or displease him, for that matter._

_Perhaps it should have troubled me that Devlyn was so irrationally adamant about protecting me – not, of course, that I was ungrateful as I had no wish to end my days in the Great Vault. Still, what did Devlyn's insistence that I stay with him mean, exactly? Was it due to his affection for me … or for Scarlett? And, in fact, was my affection for him mine alone or Scarlett's? Naturally, Scarlett and I were one and the same, and yet we were not._

_Finally, Devlyn stopped pacing. "I have checked the formula a hundred times, at least," he said. I heard the frustration evident in his voice. "Something is wrong, but I cannot determine which equation disrupts the whole formula."_

"_It is for the Great Vault," I said as I knew that Ballard would soon expect results for his compliance concerning me. "You wish to drain fear from people."_

"_Fear, among other things," Devlyn replied._

"_Why would you want to subject people to terror only to extract fear for the Queen?" I asked._

_Devlyn studied me for a moment. "Are you calling me a coward again?"_

_I remembered telling Devlyn that rating his survival higher than his conscience was a cowardly way of rationalizing the world. Yet this time, I did not associate his actions with cowardice. "No," I said. "I am calling you cruel."_

_The muscle worked in Devlyn's jaw, and I knew my comment stung. "Is it cruel that I value my life? More to the point, is it cruel that I value yours? My work, however you choose to view it, is the only reason _you _are not rotting in the Great Vault."_

"_I am only one person compared to the hundreds – perhaps thousands – of people who will suffer because of your work," I replied. "Is my life worth that high a cost?" I paused. "Is yours?"_

"_While your lessons on morality are quite touching, I assure you that you're wasting your time," Devlyn said. "You have never seen life beyond the walls of this prison, but I'm well aware of what Wonderland's become since the Queen of Hearts took the throne. If I don't give Ballard what _he_ wants so that he can give the Queen what _she_ wants then, eventually, someone else will."_

"_You can't know that," I pointed out._

"_Yes," Devlyn insisted, "I can. I know it because I know Wonderland, and I know the Queen, unlike you. She will never stop grasping at power – knowledge that can subjugate the whole of Wonderland. If I fail to produce the necessary results, someone else will step forward and offer what I denied."_

"_If everyone views the Queen's tyranny as you do then nothing will ever change." I paused. "Change must begin somewhere, even if it is only with one person."_

"_Then I am more than happy to let another man play the role of revolutionary," Devlyn returned. "That change can start with someone else."_

_I could have argued the point further with Devlyn, but I did not. It did, after all, appear little more than a practice in futility, for Devlyn seemed unlikely to accept my opinion on the matter. Besides, he was right. What did I really know of Wonderland anyway? I knew nothing of the Queen except that she was a tyrant. And I knew nothing of the war against the Queen except that my parents had fought for the Resistance. I could discuss morality, the essence of what was right and what was wrong, but I spoke from the perspective of one who did not know – of one who had never lived a life beyond Aberdeen's Gate. I could not honestly say I comprehended the "cost of having morals," as Devlyn once put it._

_Regardless, I could still disagree with Devlyn, even if I did not further debate the point with him. And I could still pity him – pity the fact that his life had led him to believe what he believed. It was a poor existence to serve another in such a manner in order to survive._

"_Have a look at this," Devlyn said as he dragged me from my thoughts and handed me the file. "Maybe you will see something that I do not."_

_Though I accepted the file, I thought it was an odd request. After all, how could he expect me to find what he – the genius – could not?_

_For show, I flipped through the pages, scanning their written contents. Then, I hesitated and frowned as I realized I actually _understood_ what I was seeing. It was, without doubt, the strangest sensation … as if another voice was whispering the answers to me, instructing me_.

"You are brilliant – by far a better student than I imagined possible," Devlyn murmured. "Yet, as intelligent as you are, you've failed to realize that you cannot stay like this forever."

"I am her."

"Yes, but you are also a secondary consciousness, Scarlett," Devlyn replied. "You need to give control back to Red."

"Is that really what you want?"

Though Devlyn hesitated, he replied with conviction, "Yes."

_I blinked several times, trying to clear my head. When I finally brought my mind back to the present, I looked up at Devlyn. "Is it me that you care for or Scarlett?" I asked bluntly._

_He frowned, appearing confused by the question. "What?"_

"_It should be simple enough to answer."_

"_You and Scarlett are the same person," Devlyn said. "I care for _you_, not one or the other."_

"_You do not know _me_."_

"_Yes, I do," Devlyn replied softly. "Scarlett was simply a culmination of everything the serum subdued. Withdraw caused a spontaneous and temporary break, but Scarlett is everything you would have been – and everything you will be – without the serum. You just need to accept that piece of yourself rather than deny it."_

_I desperately wanted to believe what Devlyn told me, but something within me stubbornly refused to accept it. I could not seem to reconcile myself with Scarlett, especially as I glanced back down at the file of papers I held. I knew – Scarlett knew – precisely where Devlyn erred. Just as I now recalled helping him make dreams, I now recalled helping him with his plans for the Great Vault. Pieces were starting to fall back into place. _

_But there was a difference between Scarlett and me. She would have given Devlyn the answer without hesitation because she believed what he believed about survival. _

_But I did not._

_I shook my head, handing the file back over to Devlyn. "I'm sorry, but I cannot make sense of anything you've written."_

* * *

Assuming the role of the grudging hostess, Gretna ushered them into the tiny sitting room before offering to fetch them sandwiches and tea. His mum was, Hatter imagined, only playing nice because of Lily, the Princess of Wonderland. Even Gretna wouldn't chance offending the daughter of a king.

Hatter, Alice, and Lily took seats on the worn and rather dusty furniture while Gretna shuffled away, her gait slow with age. As he watched her depart, he reflected on one very simple fact: he never liked his mum.

Sometimes, Gretna was kind – almost motherly, even. But, in his youth, those glimpses of motherly affection were rare. Then, after his dad died, any trace of warmth Gretna might have occasionally extended toward him vanished. Hatter's conscience had kept him in Lutwidge for a few years following his dad's death. After all, despite Gretna's disdain for him – her own bloody son – her husband was gone, and the guilt of abandoning her had gnawed at Hatter. Despite everything, she _was_ his mum.

Yet the guilt could only dictate his actions for so long, and, when a convenient opportunity presented itself, Hatter seized it without much hesitation, more than happy to bid Lutwidge – and his mum – a less than fond farewell. On that long ago day, he'd never imagined that he would return. Yet, here he was, seated awkwardly in his mum's sitting room. He could hear her in the kitchen, rummaging about as she muttered to herself. Briefly, he wondered if she would spit in their sandwiches … or poison them. Then he reasoned even Gretna wasn't that horrible – to poison them, that was. He did, in fact, think her quite capable of spitting in their food. But, by this point, he was hungry enough to eat just about anything.

Lily sighed with impatience then, drawing Hatter's attention. She stood abruptly and started poking around the tiny room, searching, Hatter guessed, for something that would entertain her until Gretna returned. He didn't figure that Lily would find anything of interest because Gretna and entertainment were two words never uttered in the same sentence.

Since the imperial highness was occupied nosing around, Hatter finally looked over at Alice. He knew Alice was concerned for him, especially following Gretna's greeting. He could see the concern written plainly upon her face, but she was holding her silence and respecting his space to deal as he saw fit. Hatter appreciated that consideration, but he also realized that it was unfair to let her worry.

"Guess you've got a lot of questions."

Alice hesitated. "A few, yes," she finally admitted.

Hatter nodded, glancing away. He knew exactly which question Alice wanted to ask first. "Well, not much to tell, really," he said. He cleared his throat. "My mum and I never got on well, and I ran away a few years after my dad died. I wasn't close with him either, but he was nice enough. Anyway, I was eleven when I left." Meeting Alice's gaze again, he continued, "It is what it is, Alice, and I don't feel sorry for myself. You shouldn't either. The woman never beat me. She just didn't like me." He paused. "I never expected to come back here, you know."

"But _why_ is she so terrible to you?" Alice asked, and Hatter knew Alice would find it impossible to accept the sad reality that defined his relationship with his mum, especially because Alice was close with Carol. "There has to be a reason," Alice persisted when Hatter did not immediately respond. "Mothers just don't treat their children like that. At least, they shouldn't."

Hatter shrugged. "I was born," he replied. "That's all the more reason she needed, I think." He sighed when Alice gave him a look. "Honestly, Alice, I don't know. It's the way it's always been since before I can remember."

Seeming to understand that she wasn't going to get a more substantial answer than that because it was, after all, the most substantial answer he could offer, Alice switched to another topic besides his mum. "You said you were eleven when you left. What did you do?"

"Travelin' carnival was in Knighton, the next town over," Hatter explained. "So, me and my mates went to have a look. We'd never seen anythin' like it, mostly because of the war with the Resistance. But there was a bit of a break there for a good five or so years, and things were almost normal. Anyway, I went over, and I just never came back."

"You joined a carnival?" Alice asked, sounding somewhat incredulous.

"That surprises you?"

Alice appeared to think it over for a moment before she replied, "Somehow, no, not really." She shook her head, looking vaguely amused. "All right, so you joined the carnival," she said, clearly implying that he continue his story.

"For a few years, yeah," Hatter replied. "It was like havin' a family – a really odd family, but still a family. I learned a few tricks, and I learned how to lie, which served its purpose while the Queen was on the throne. Well, anyway, after a few years, I set out for the city and took a job in the tea shop. I worked my way up 'til it was mine, and you know the rest after that."

Before Alice could respond or question him further, Gretna returned then with a plate of tiny sandwiches. She placed the plate on the tea table, which was centered within the circle of the sitting room's chairs. When she straightened, her glare swept over Alice and Hatter. "I suppose you'll want to stay the night." She sounded far from pleased by the prospect.

Truth be told, Hatter cringed inwardly at the thought of sleeping here, but he could not expect Alice and Lily to venture back out into the cold at this time of night. It went without saying that they _did_ need a warm place to stay, even if that place happened to, unfortunately, be _here_. Hatter cleared his throat as he met his mum's icy gaze. "It'd be nice of you to put us up for the night." He nearly choked on the word 'nice,' and he was rather shocked that he didn't instantly burst into flames by daring to call his mum _nice_.

Gretna sniffed indignantly, her face pinched as if she'd just swallowed something foul. "Fine," she bit out. Clearly, she'd been hoping that Hatter would decline the offer. "The lot of you can stay in _his_ old room."

Hatter's childhood room was hardly bigger than a closet, so he wondered how exactly they'd make that work. Still, he supposed, it was better than bedding out in the snow.

"You put that back!" Gretna snapped suddenly, her attention now focused on Lily, who was holding a small figurine carved from wood. "Princess or not, you can't go about poking through other people's belongings."

Lily rolled her eyes. "It's not like I plan to steal the ugly thing."

"_Ugly_?" Gretna exploded.

"Well, it certainly isn't _pretty_," Lily returned.

"I'll have you know …" but Gretna's voice trailed off unexpectedly as she inexplicably glanced at Hatter. "Just put it back where you found it," she hissed before exiting the room, muttering curses as she returned to the kitchen in order to, Hatter assumed, retrieve the tea she'd promised.

Once Gretna was gone, Lily walked over to Hatter, still holding the figurine. She held it out for him to see, as if it was supposed to mean something to him. Of course, he recalled that his dad used to like carving, but, otherwise, Hatter couldn't interpret the significance of the boy figurine staring up at him from Lily's hand.

"He was Gretna's son," Lily said. "I remember seeing him."

Hatter guessed that Lily meant she'd seen this boy in her dreams, but failed to add that to her statement. Regardless, he focused on the 'Gretna's son' part. "I don't have any brothers," Hatter said. "I was an only child."

"This one died before you came around," Lily explained. "So, you wouldn't have known him." She studied Hatter for a moment, and he could only imagine what the child was thinking. Finally, she said, "You should just ask her to tell you the truth. That's the only way she'll tell us what we need to know." After another pause, she added, "Trust me."

Lily turned then and practically skipped back toward the shelf, returning the figurine.

Hatter glanced at Alice, looking for some indication from her as to what the hell he should do when all he really wanted to do was leave. But Alice shrugged, shaking her head as if to tell him that he should do as he saw best.

So, trust Lily, Hatter thought. This entire bloody visit had been the girl's idea, despite Hatter's objections. Her damn dreams told her that they just had to come here. Of all the places in Wonderland, Lily's dreams had to show her this little house in Lutwidge. On top of that, Gretna apparently had information that they needed. Well, that was just ridiculous, really. Even if his mum knew something, she wasn't likely to share it, least of all with him.

Feeling the familiar twinge in his head, Hatter briefly squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't yet tell if this was just a normal headache, courtesy of the current situation, or another migraine that would cripple him for a day, at least. He prayed it wasn't a migraine because he couldn't imagine, ill or not, being forced to stay in this house past morning.

Lily jumped back into her chair then just as Gretna rejoined them, balancing a tray that held four full, steaming cups of tea. She scowled at the lot of them before placing the tray on the table next to the sandwiches. Taking a cup for herself, she took the chair furthest from all of them and watched each of them as if she wanted nothing more than to toss them all – Princess included – back out into the cold.

Hatter shifted uncomfortably in his chair while Lily started humming to herself as she stared up at the ceiling. Then, ignoring his mum's glowering, he leaned forward and nipped a sandwich. After all, he _was_ hungry. When he finished, he glanced at his mum and finally decided he should just take Lily's advice. The girl wouldn't let the issue drop anyway until she was satisfied that they'd found what they needed.

"All I want is the truth," Hatter said. Lily stopped humming and turned her undivided attention toward Hatter and Gretna.

Hatter watched Gretna's knuckles turn white as her grip tightened around her tea cup. She took another sip before demanding, "Is that why you darkened my doorstep? You found out, then?" She paused, searching Hatter's face. He raised an eyebrow, more than surprised by her response, but he remained quiet. Gretna continued, "If I tell you what I know, will you leave in the morning and never dare come back?"

"You'll never see me again," Hatter said, quite willing to agree to her terms. If it hadn't been for Lily's insistence, he never would have returned to Lutwidge in the first place.

Gretna set aside her cup. "You've got the ruby, I assume."

Hatter considered the necklace still in his pocket – the very one he'd intended to give to Alice as a gift. "Yes," he replied.

"That belonged to your mother."

Hatter stared at Gretna uncomprehendingly. His brain, it seemed, was incapable of processing that bit of information. "Wait … what?" he asked weakly, stunned.

"Your _mother_, you idiot," Gretna snapped. "I thought you knew that much, at least. I thought that's why you were here when you asked for the truth just now." She waved a hand dismissively. "Well, no matter, then. I've told you that much now, I might as well tell you the rest." She paused as if gathering her thoughts. "We've not always lived in Lutwidge, as you believed. My husband and I were raised here, it's true. But after we married, he took a job as an officer in a large prison near Liddell. It was the Queen's old prison, you know – the one they called Aberdeen's Gate. I'm sure you've heard the stories."

Yes, Hatter had heard the stories about Aberdeen's Gate. _Everyone_ in Wonderland knew the often unbelievable stories about Aberdeen's Gate, the mysterious prison that had caught fire and burned to nothing not long after Hatter was born. The prison's demise only served to fuel the rumors. Supposedly, Hatter heard that the blackened shell of Aberdeen's Gate remained, untouched since the fire that destroyed it.

"Well," Gretna continued, "while we were there, we were blessed with a child. But _my_ son fell ill and died when he was no more than a boy. I was unable to bear more children, and my husband thought the only solution to my melancholy was another child. So he made a fool's promise to some Doctor at the prison, and you were dumped upon me as if I actually _wanted_ someone else's brat."

Hatter stared at Gretna, utterly dumbfounded. After all, _what_ exactly did one say to such a revelation? How was he even supposed to react when discovering that, suddenly, he didn't even really know who he was?

The only thing Hatter could manage to say was, "Then who's my mum?" And, for that matter … "Who's my dad?"

Gretna shrugged as if what he asked was completely insignificant. "I never asked; I never cared. And my husband never told me. All I know is that you were born to a prisoner at Aberdeen's Gate. You're the son of a criminal."

* * *

**Author's Note: THANK YOU **all again for the wonderful reviews! I truly appreciate it!


	8. Chapter 8

Enjoy, and thank you for reading!

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**7**

_Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going._

- Tennessee Williams

* * *

_Having acquired Devlyn's irksome habit, I paced the length of my tiny room and back again. In recent weeks, Devlyn finally abandoned the "protocol" of binding me to my bed in his absence as if I was no more than a raving lunatic who required such protective measures. Obviously, I was not mad, and I did not need such restraint. Grateful for his uncharacteristic rejection of regulation, I continued pacing the room, anxiously awaiting Devlyn's return and wondering whether or not the coveted formula had proved successful._

_For Devlyn's sake as well as mine, I prayed that the formula worked. Ballard would expect nothing less than absolute success, and, by this point, failure could mean only one outcome. No matter Devlyn's near irreplaceable value and almost immeasurable intellect, Ballard would not hesitate to send him to the executioner. Then, he would banish me to a lifetime in the Great Vault … or worse. It seemed strange that I could now find the horrors of the Great Vault a preferable fate to another alternative. No longer the serum's fool, I understood matters as I could never have understood them before. Over the past month or more, I interpreted the meaning behind Ballard's lecherous glances in my direction, his abrupt and frequent visits when Devlyn was not here under the pretense of monitoring my progress, and his insistence at calling me "Devlyn's whore."_

_Naturally, I could not fathom how Ballard came to discover the depth of intimacy that Devlyn and I shared, for Devlyn assuredly was not the sort of man to discuss such delicate matters, least of all with Ballard. However it came to pass, Ballard knew, and he must have assumed that Devlyn's almost unreasonable infatuation with me resulted directly from what I offered physically. Without question, Ballard concluded _that _was my only merit. And it stood to reason that he ignored me before because he thought me insane. Yet, since my documented re-emergence as Red, Ballard must have determined that I was somehow now worthy of his own attentions because, simply put, I was no longer crazy, my body inhabited by another – foreign – consciousness._

_Whatever the ultimate conclusion, I despised Ballard, and his presence left me feeling both chilled and disgusted. If given the choice between him and the Great Vault, I would choose the Great Vault without the slightest hesitation or debate … provided, of course, that I was offered a choice, which, circumstances considered, appeared unlikely._

_Shaking my head, I forced Ballard from my thoughts. Still, rather than think on anything of comfort, I instead considered Devlyn's earlier speculation that Scarlett's memories would soon assimilate with mine, becoming whole – a complete individual – over the course of time. Admittedly, it was a thought that yet troubled me since I could not fully trust Scarlett, both her motives and her beliefs. Regardless, she _was _me, a fact that was becoming more obvious with each passing day. To my dismay, I was starting to realize that I could no longer necessarily distinguish between one memory and another – Scarlett's from mine. The memories blended seamlessly into one consciousness, and it was near impossible to separate Scarlett from myself, except on the rarest of occasions. Despite my initial resistance, I had even conceded to correct Devlyn's formula concerning the productive operation of the Great Vault. Though now I wondered whether or not he truly needed my assistance to correct the formula or if his request was no more than a ploy to determine how well Scarlett had integrated herself into my thoughts and memories … my entire mind and being._

_With a frustrated sigh, I finally sat down upon the bed, staring at the door and waiting. My stomach flipped, the bile rising in my throat. I closed my eyes and took slow, deep breaths as I swallowed down the familiar illness as well as its devastating implications._

_Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the door opened, and Devlyn stepped inside the room. From his stoic expression, I could not tell what news he brought. His dark gaze met mine, and I stood, unable to do more than watch him as I waited expectantly._

_"I have brought you a gift," he announced unexpectedly._

_"A … gift?" I echoed, stunned. As he closed the small distance between us, I regained my wits. "Do not toy with me, Devlyn. Was the test successful?"_

_To my consternation, he ignored me, instead reaching into the pocket of his customary lab coat to retrieve a necklace. Agitated by his bizarre actions, I stood stiffly as he carefully placed the bauble about my neck. It was, I noticed, a fetching piece – a simple black ribbon adorned with a brilliant red ruby pendant. Still, I could not admire the present at such a moment as this. My nerves were frayed; all I wanted was an answer._

_"Devlyn, please," I snapped. "What happened with Ballard?"_

_"The ruby is a token of my affection," Devlyn replied as he blatantly ignored both my apparent irritation and impatience. "I have considered for some time now confessing more than mere affection, but I admit I am neither a poet nor a romantic. And yet … however much it does not make sense and however much I fail to understand it, I do love you, Red."_

_For longer than necessary, I stood still and silent, absorbing his confession – a confession that neither one of us had dared confess before. In the sanctuary of my mind, I thought of love, and I was convinced that what I felt toward Devlyn was stronger than only affection or desire – that what I felt was indeed that elusive emotion that hopeless romantics used to describe the ultimate depth of attachment and dependence. Suddenly struck by all that had occurred between Devlyn and me since our first meeting, I wondered how it had come to this. Without a doubt, I was as confused as Devlyn by the complete irrationality of it all. Yet, in spite of my own emotions, I could not bring myself to return his sentiment aloud. Though I was Devlyn's so called assistant, I was, realistically, still a hostage within this room. That combined with the truth I yet concealed kept me from baring myself to an even greater vulnerability – the very consequence of admitting love for another._

_Instead, I replied, "And I promise I'll hate you forever if you do not tell me now what happened with Ballard."_

_Though I did not wish for it, I was surprised that Devlyn did not appear either hurt or troubled by my avoidance to his profession of love. "The necklace," Devlyn began, "is also meant as a token of celebration." He paused for a rather unnecessary dramatic effect. "The formula proved an unmitigated success."_

_My knees went weak with Devlyn's answer. "Ballard was pleased, then?" I persisted just to make certain._

_"Ecstatic," Devlyn said._

_"Then we have played our part," I said as I suddenly and desperately needed to sit once more._

_"Yes … I suppose," Devlyn said slowly._

_He studied me, confusion mingling with concern as I sank back down upon the bed's thin mattress. My stomach churned, and I wished I had refused lunch. After all, nothing agreed with me lately. Naturally, I was not ignorant enough to fail to understand the significance of the persistent nausea, which had plagued me for nearly a month now. Once I reached a certain age, the Doctors often questioned me about the symptoms of carrying a child, for it went without saying that many of the female prisoners suffered abuse that might result in such a condition. Of course, the Doctors were not interested in the abuse itself, only the possible result. Luckily, I had never endured that particularly depraved kind of violence, but I still understood._

_"Are you all right?" Devlyn asked. He knew that I had not been quite myself the past few weeks, but, despite his brilliance, common sense often eluded him. He hadn't the slightest inkling, and, for that, I was thankful. For a reason I could not name, I was not yet ready for him to know._

_Glancing up at him, I said, "We should leave. Ballard has everything he wants. Can it not just end with that?"_

_"Leave?" Devlyn asked incredulously. "While the idea is appealing, we cannot just _leave _Aberdeen's Gate." He paused. "Besides, in truth, we are probably far safer here than we would be out there. The war …" his voice trailed off, leaving me to imagine my own horrors at how the war was devastating the whole of Wonderland._

_"And what terrible weapon will Ballard ask of you next?" I whispered. "The knowledge you are willing to give him could destroy Wonderland."_

_"The Queen would never actually destroy Wonderland," Devlyn reasoned. "Without people to rule, she cannot play the tyrant. She would not wear the crown of a wasteland. Rest assured, no matter what weapons we provide, she will make certain she still rules a land filled with people to terrorize."_

_"Is that not simply another form of destruction?" I returned._

_"Perhaps it is, but that isn't for us to decide."_

_So, we were back to discussing the importance of surviving, first and foremost. It left me to wonder if Devlyn would ever count anything – or _anyone – _as being worth the cost of his own life._

* * *

After revealing that Hatter was not, in fact, her son, Gretna rose from her chair and departed, bidding the lot of them a goodnight by reminding them that she expected them gone by morning.

Lily made a face at Gretna's back before turning to Alice and Hatter. "Well!" she exclaimed. "That was easy enough, wasn't it? Now we know that we must go to Aberdeen's Gate." She paused, appearing to be momentarily lost in thought. Finally, Lily continued, "We really must go to sleep if we want to leave before the wicked witch wakes. She's probably one of those _awful_ people that wake at dawn." Looking at Hatter, Lily asked, "Where is your old room? The witch said we could sleep there."

"The door to the left of the kitchen," Hatter replied, and he sounded almost … mechanical, answering on instinct rather than actual thought.

Lily skipped out of the room, and then returned less than a minute later. With her hands on her hips, she said, "That is _not_ a room. It's a closet."

"I think it was supposed to be a pantry," Hatter said, though there was no humor in his voice.

"Well," Lily huffed, "I can't even find a bed. There's junk piled everywhere, and there's cobwebs and dust … and probably spiders." Lily shuddered as if that were the most horrific thought in the world. "I hate spiders. Do you think maybe they're all dead because of the cold?" Lily did not wait for Hatter or Alice to answer before she continued, "I think they are. They must be. I haven't seen a spider since I left home. Well," she began as she grabbed a folded blanket from one of the chairs in the sitting room, "_I_ am going to sleep in the kitchen. At least it's a _little_ cleaner in there."

Then, Lily wished them goodnight and reminded them not to leave in the morning without her, as if they actually would. Alice would hardly abandon her worst enemy at Gretna's house, let alone the girl, though, in all honesty, Lily could probably hold her own against the likes of Gretna.

When Lily left, Alice turned her attention on Hatter. Though he still appeared somewhat stunned, he overall seemed to be accepting the entire situation far better than Alice imagined that she would have coped with such a situation. Then again, Hatter must have been thrilled to learn that Gretna was not his mother. Regardless, that would still, inevitably, leave Hatter with questions to which he might never find answers.

"Hatter," Alice said gently as she leaned forward in her chair and reached out, placing her hand over his. She could not fathom what she might say, but she wanted to remind him that she was there, _with_ him.

Hatter shook his head, a vague half-smile lifting the corner of his mouth. "It's probably one of the best damn things anyone's ever told me. It sure explains a lot."

"But …" Alice prompted, feeling that there was more Hatter wanted to add to that statement.

"But …" Hatter hesitated. "Well, I'll probably never know who they were – my parents, I mean. If my mum was a prisoner, she probably died in the fire."

"What is Aberdeen's Gate exactly?" Alice asked.

Hatter shrugged. "There's rumors, that's all. All anyone knows for sure was that it was the Queen's prison, and it burned down not long after I was born." He paused before adding quietly, "They say no one survived."

"I'm so sorry," Alice whispered. She understood how difficult it must be for Hatter to learn that someone else was his mother only to realize she was likely dead. And, even if she wasn't, Alice knew Hatter didn't have the first clue as to where he might start searching for her … or his father for that matter. Though she had _known_ who her dad was, of course, she sympathized with that particular frustration – and hurt – all too well. So, even if it seemed a slim hope, Alice said, "Maybe we'll find something at Aberdeen's Gate."

Though Hatter did not respond, he nodded before squeezing his eyes shut, and Alice noticed the blood. Quickly, Alice scanned the room and grabbed a blanket that was neatly folded over the back of one of the sitting room's chairs. She handed it over to Hatter, and, briefly, Alice hoped the blanket was one of Gretna's favorites.

When Hatter finally lowered the blanket, blood staining the fabric, he didn't meet Alice's gaze but rather stared straight ahead, frowning as if he were confused by something Alice could not see. "I used to think I'd rather survive than entertain my conscience – that the cost of having morals in Wonderland was too high a price."

It was Alice's turn to frown as she studied Hatter worriedly. His speech was … _different_ – different, even, from the times he recited bizarre riddles and rhymes.

_This_ was something new, and it was most assuredly _not_ a positive development.

"I didn't think change could happen with only one person," Hatter continued. "I was wrong, you know." When Hatter finally looked at Alice, she didn't believe he was actually seeing _her_ at all, but rather someone else. After all, it didn't even seem to Alice as if Hatter was speaking for himself. Rather, it felt as if someone else were speaking for him.

"I set the fire," Hatter whispered, glancing down at the bloodied blanket draped over his lap. "It was the only way." He sighed, sounding defeated. "A lot of people died, and I will live with that forever … but, in the end, it saved more people than it killed. It does not make me a hero; I never was a hero. But you already know that." Hatter paused again. "I made a bargain with an officer. He was nice enough, and he had just lost his son. So, the officer agreed to smuggle him out of the prison and raise him as his own."

"Hatter?" Alice asked as she grasped his hand once more in an attempt to jar him and bring him back to the present … and, more to the point, back to reality.

"No, that is not my name," Hatter replied. He glanced down at Alice's hand with a raised eyebrow as if he had not expected her to touch him. "The old man never could say it right. He always insisted on saying Hatt-_er_." Meeting Alice's gaze, he said, "My name is _Hatta_."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope this chapter has cleared up any last bit of confusion concerning Hatter's parentage ... before we move on to the next twist! Again, **THANK YOU** all for the reviews. You all are awesome, and I can never possibly thank you enough :-D


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